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ANNIE    NELLES 


ANNIE   NELLES; 


f  Ije   life   of  a   looli   tgeni 


AJT  ^urosioGHATsr. 


CINCINNATI: 
PUBLISHED  Br  THE  AUTHOR. 

1868. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867, 

By  ANNIE  NELLES, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Indiana. 


^5S 


f 


TO    THE 

OOK  AGENTS  DF  AMERICA 

THIS      BOOK     IS 

RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED, 

:Bjy    TUB  AUTHOR, 


M685G57 


PEEFACE. 


There  are  several  motives  which  have  actuated  me  in  the 
preparation  of  the  following  sketch ;  among  the  first  of  which 
may  be  mentioned  a  sincere  desire  to  serve  the  public,  by  warn- 
ing them  against  the  many  errors  I  have  committed.  A  calm, 
quiet  review  of  my  life,  discloses  the  fact  that,  in  many  instances, 
my  conduct  has  been  influenced  by  passion  alone,  and  that  the 
consequences  flowing  therefrom  have,  in  every  instance,  proven 
to  be  the  most  painful.  To  enable  the  young  and  inexperienced 
to  avoid,  as  far  as  possible,  the  rocks  and  shoals  upon  which  my 
bark  made  shipwreck,  is  one  of  the  objects  of  this  publication. 

Another  object  is,  that  the  world  may  be  informed,  so  far  as 
is  in  my  power,  of  the  real  character  o.f  those  (many  of  whom 
are  still  living,  and  will  read  this  work)  who  have  so  foully 
wronged  and  ill-treated  me.  I  say  this  in  no  spirit  of  revenge — 
that  is  a  feeling  which  has  long  since  died  out  in  my  bosom — 
but  because  I  regard  it  as  a  matter  of  duty,  not  only  to  myself, 
but  to  those  with  whom  they  may  be  hereafter  brought  in  con- 
tact. The  world  is  full  enough  of  misery  and  sorrow,  caused  by 
man's  treachery  and  wrong ;  and  if  I  can  in  any  degree,  how- 
ever small,  check  this  torrent,  I  shall  feel  myself  abundantly  re- 
paid for  all  the  time  and  labor  the  effort  may  cost  me. 

That  the  present  work  contains  many  errors  and  inaccuracies 
of  language,  is  undoubtedly  true ;  but,  of  one  thing  the  reader 
may  be  assured :  the  main  incidents  therein  described,  are  ac- 
tually and  literally  true.  The  following  pages  are  a  faithful 
and  correct  record  of  the  leading  incidents  of  my  life,  and  are 
freely  given  to  the  public  for  the  reasons  and  motives  above  in- 


VI  PREFACE. 

dicated.  I  have  confined  myself  strictly  to  facts,  and  have  not 
"  extenuated,  or  aught  set  down  in  malice." 

One  word  in  relation  to  the  style  of  the  work.  If  any  one 
should  be  disposed  to  charge  that  it  is  any  degree  egotistical,  I 
beg  them  to  remember  that  that  is  a  difficulty  which,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  inheres  in  a  work  of  this  character,  and  which  it 
seems  almost  impossible  to  avoid  in  any  autobiography.  The 
writer  who  gives  to  the  public  his  own  life,  must  necessarily 
speak  principally  of  himself;  and  while  this  would  in  no  sense 
condemn  the  work  with  the  more  intelligent  and  thinking 
classes,  still  there  are  some  who  will  doubtless  read  the  book  and 
find  fault  with  it  for  this  reason,  if  for  no  other.  To  such 
I  offer  the  explanation  above  given,  and  entreat  them  not  to 
condemn  the  work  until  they  have  tried,  and  ascertained  from 
their  own  experience,  how  difficult  it  is  to  write  one's  own  life 
without  speaking  of  one's  self. 

With  all  its  faults  and  errors,  and  in  the  humble  hope  that  it 
will  be  kindly  received  and  tenderly  judged,  the  work  is  submit- 
ted to  a  generous  and  discriminating  public,  by 

THE  AUTHOR. 
La  Porte,  Ind.,  September,  1867. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 
Introductory  reflections  and  remarks 9 

CHAPTER  II. 

Birth  and  parentage — Want  of  mother's  love— Death  of  father— His 
funeral— The  return  home— Saddened  reflections  upon  my  lonely 
lot 14 

CHAPTER  III. 

At  my  old  home  near  Atlanta — Description  of  the  place — Captain 
Lake  my  guardian — His  neglect — His  marriage  with  my  mother — 
Henry's  sickness  and  death — My  little  half-sister  May — I  go  to 
Kew  Orleans — P^ate  and  May  sick — May's  death — 1  return  home, 
and  find  Kate  dead — I  return  to  New  Orleans  with  my  brother 
Frank 22 

CHAPTER  IV. 

I  hear  of  my  mother's  death — My  step-father's  scheme  to  rob  us  of 
our  rights — ^Uncle  Adam's  death — Aunt  Kittie's  death — Our  plans 
for  the  future — I  go  to  Mrs.  Armstrong's — My  illness — Near  being 
buried  alive — My  return  to  Georgia — Interview  with  Uncle  Tom 
and  Aunt  Silvie — Captain  Lake's  wife — ^My  illness  returns — In  my 
old  room — Mrs.  Lake's  kindness  to  me 36 

CHAPTER  V. 

Captain  Lake  returns  home — The  "  young  widower"  with  him — The 
hitroduction  to  him— His  attentions  to  me — The  proposition — Our 
engagement— My  love  for  Mr.  Giles— Our  wedding— A  gay  party — 
We  start  on  our  wedding  tour 66 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Arrival  in  New  York— My  husband  discovers  my  want  of  educa- 
tion— Conversation  between  him  and  Frank  on  that  subject — ^Visit 
to  Boston— Visit  to  Philadelphia— My  brother  Frank  starts  for 
California— Our  return  home,  and  reception  at  the  Lake  mansion. .    74 
vii 


VIU  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

We  go  to  housekeeping  in  Atlanta— My  husband's  children— Birth 
of  my  child— Her  death— Her  funeral— Irregularity  of  my  hus- 
band's habits — His  first  appearance  before  nie  in  a  state  of  intoxi- 
cation—His secret— The  little  foundling— The  secret  revealed— 
Our  property  gambled  away— The  sale— Captain  Lalie's  kindness- 
Rent  the  house  which  was  once  ours— My  husband  sets  out  on  a 
trading  trip 83 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

My  husband's  return— His  success— Illness  of  the  children— Pecu- 
niary embarrassment — Illness  of  my  brother  in  California — A  letter 
from  him — The  rebellion — Wickedness  and  folly  of  the  South — 
Commencement  of  hostilities — Captain  Lake  and  my  brother  enter 
the  service  of  the  South— The  parting 108 

CHAPTER  IX. 

The  reign  of  despotism  at  the  South— We  determine  to  remove  to 
the  North — Preparations — The  start — Difficulties  of  the  journey — 
Kindness  of  General  .....  .—Arrival  in  Cincinnati — Go  to  London, 

Canada  West — Return   to  Cincinnati — My  brother  a  brigadier- 
general  in  the  Confederate  army 121 

CHAPTER  X. 

Mrs.  Martha  H.  Mason  comes  to  see  me — Astounding  revelations — 
My  husband  admits  his  guilt— I  steal  away  from  him— Kindness  of 
the  landlord  and  his  wife— The  landlord  and  myself  go  to  his 
sister's,  in  the  country 130 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Arrival  at  Mrs.  King's— Her  Christian  kindness— Efforts  of  Mason  to 
find  myself  and  Carrie— The  efforts  fail,  and  are  finally  discon- 
tinued—My plans  for  earning  a  livelihood 150 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Return  to  Cincinnati— Difficulties  in  my  way— Return  to  Atlanta- 
Bitter  disappointment— Return  to  Cincinnati,  and  teach  a  class  in 
painting— Get  Carrie,  and  remove  to  Detroit— At  a  loss  what  to  do.  159 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Open  a  boarding-house  in  Detroit— Meet  Captain  Lake— His  wife 
visits  me— Meet  Mason  in  Detroit— Sell  out  my  furniture,  and  go  to 
Chicago  to  avoid  him Ig7 


CONTENTS.  IX 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Arrival  in  Chicago — Search  for  employment — Wao^es  of  sewing  wo- 
men— Am  prostrated  by  sickness — In  destitute  circumstances — 
Fortunate  meeting  with  Captain  Lalvc — His  kindness — New  ac- 
quaintances—My enemies 177 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Make  the  acquaintance  of  Frank  C.  Nelles — Incidents  of  our  ac- 
quaintance—Angeline  Carney — Proposition  of  JSTelles — Its  accept- 
ance—His family— My  fears  of  the  future 188 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

My  enemies  slander  me  with  Frank — Interview  between  us  relative 
thereto — The  fatal  letter — The  engagement  about  being  broken 
off—Reconciliation — The  wedding — Visit  to  his  mother  at  Wauke- 
gan— Frank's  return  to  Chicago— I  follow 200 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Commence  housekeeping  in  Chicago  —Efforts  of  my  enemies  to  sep- 
arate myself  and  husband — Their  effect  upon  him — His  falsehood     • 
to  me— Thediscoverj' — Attempted  suicide — ^The  separation — I  make 
my  arrangements  to  leave  Chicago 215 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

I  leave  Chicago — Journey  to  Niles,  Michigan — Go  to  Detroit,  and 
take  boarders— Give  up  my  board ing-liouse,  and  go  to  work  as  a 
kitchen  girl — My  sickness — Determine  to  become  a  ''book  agent" — 
Return  to  Chicago,  and  get  an  agency  for  "Tried  and  True" — Sell 
my  canaries,  buy  a  basket,  and  start  for  Peoria,  Illinois 233 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Arrive  at  Peoria,  get  lodgings,  and  go  to  work — Incidents — The  first 
sale — A  good  w^eek's  work — In  love  with  my. new  business 248 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Continue  canvassing — Dull  times — Discouragements — Amusing  inci- 
dents—The dentist — Difficulty  with  the  express  agent— Kindness  of 
Mends — Mrs.  Tripp 265 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Go  to  Elmwood—"  Waiting  for  the  wagon"— "Rolls  of  butter"— Ar- 
rival at  Southport— Go  to  Rockhill— To  Lawn  Ridge— "Tom"— 
The  lady  who  never  reads  novels — A  sad  case  of  poverty — To  Lon- 
don— Chilllcothe 282 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


Go  to  Chicago — "Home  circle" — "Memorial  of  Mr.  Lincoln" — At 
Michigan  City,  Indiana— The  absent-minded  lawyer— Over  the 
L.,  N.  A.  and  C.  Railroad  to  Indianapolis 304 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

"The  Lost  Cause"— Return  to  Atlanta— "The  General  History  of 
Freemasonry  in  Europe"— Desolation  of  Atlanta  and  vicinity 313 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Gloomy  reflections— Efforts  to  secure  the  return  of  thfe  confiscated 
property  of  my  brother  and  step-father — "  The  History  of  Morgan's 
Cavalry  "—Return  home— The  Wabash  Valley  Railroad 325 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Leave  Indianapolis  for  Lebanon — Influence  of  rank  and  fashion — 
Thorntown— Attica— Danville— Adoption  of  "  Willie"— Northern 
Indiana 337 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

At  Laporte — ^Incidents — Elder  Walker— South  Bend — Wishawaka — 
Fishing,  and  my  reflections  thereon— Elkhart— Goshen— "Out  of 
books" — Determine  to  go  to  Springfield 352 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

The  "Eastern  Star"  degrees— Arrival  at  Springfield— The  cemetery- 
Tomb  and  home  of  Abraham  Lincoln — Return  to  Laporte — To  In- 
dianapolis—Conclusion   367 


ANNIE   NELLES; 

OR, 

THE  LIFE  OF  A  BOOK  A&EIT 


CHAPTER    I. 

Another  wretched,  dreary,  rainy  day.  It  really  seems 
as  though  the  god  of  the  weather  had  a  spite  against  me. 
For  the  last  week  it  has  rained  almost  constantly,  and  I 
have  consequently  been  unable  to  prosecute  my  business 
with  anything  like  success.  Last  evening  I  thought  the 
rain  was  over,  and  that  we  were  going  to  have  pleasant 
weather,  but  the  first  sound  which  caught  my  ears  upon 
awakening  this  morning,  was  the  rain  beating  and  dash- 
ing against  my  window.  And  still  the  dreary,  monotonous 
patter,  patter,  of  the  falling  torrents  goes  on,  without  the 
least  prospect  of  cessation.  And  then  the  mud  in  the 
streets  1  It  is  almost  unfathomable,  and  is  getting  worse 
every  moment.  Ugh !  it  makes  me  shudder  to  think  of 
going  out  to  canvass  for  subscribers  to-day.  I  can  not 
do  it. 

And  yet,  what  is  to  become  of  me  if  I  do  not?  I  can 
not  live  unless  I  work,  or  unless  I  do  better  than  I  have 
thus  far.  I  have  sold  but  one  book  this  week,  and  only 
made  one  dollar  profit  on  that.  I  have  to  pay  six  dollars 
per  week  for  my  board,  and  have  nothing  to  pay  with.  Ah ! 
poor  Book  Agents  1    They  have  a  hard  time  of  it.    Certain 


10  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

am  I  that  they  earn  every  cent  they  get.  Here  am  I  with- 
out a  cent  to  pay  my  board,  or  even  post  a  letter,  and  no 
prospect  of  being  able  to  do  anything  for — the  Lord  only 
knows  how  long.  Were  it  not  for  my  two  precious  babes, 
I  should  almost  give  up  in  despair  of  ever  accomplishing 
anything. 

My  weekly  board  bill  is  due  to-day,  and  how  to  meet  it 
I  do  not  know,  I  pawned  my  furs  for  money  to  pay  my 
last  board  bill,  and  now  I  have  nothing  that  I  can  spare — 
Oh!  yes,  there  is  my  watch  —  Gussie's  watch — but  how 
can  I  part  with  that  ?  Dear  Gussie !  Little  did  I  think 
when,  in  happy  days  long  since  past,  you  gave  me  this  pre- 
cious keepsake,  that  I  should  ever  be  driven  to  part  with 
it.  But  I  must.  Stern  necessity  knows  no  law,  and  there 
is  no  help  for  it.  One  by  one  all  my  little  treasures — bright 
mementos  of  happier  days — ^have  gone  to  enable  me  to 
keep  life  in  my  wretched  frame,  and  appease  the  demands 
of  hunger;  and  now  this  last  token  of  affection — this  price- 
less gift,  which  I  thought  to  keep  till  my  dying  day,  must 
go  as  all  the  others  have  done.  But  it  is  useless  to  spend 
time  in  vain  repining — so,  away  through  rain  and  mud  and 
storm,  for  the  pawn-broker's. 

It  is  a  dismal,  gloomy-looking  den.  Its  rough  exterior, 
innocent  of  paint,  and  narrow,  low  entrance,  seem  to  frown 
ominously  at  one,  and  warn  me  not  to  seek  an  entrance. 
But  my  wretched  fortune  drives  me  to  it,  and  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation  I  enter  the  forbidding  portal,  while  a 
shudder  of  agony,  at  the  thought  of  what  I  am  about  to 
do,  involuntarily  runs  through  my  frame.  Once  inside,  I 
am  compelled  to  wait  until  my  eyes  become  accustomed  to 
the  dim  light  which  enters  the  dingy  apartment  through 
windows  covered  with  cobwebs,  and  begrimed  with  the  dirt 
of  years,  before  I  can  venture  to  transact  any  business.    As 


THE    LIFE    OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  11 

my  eyes  become  able  to  penetrate  more  distinctly  the  gloom 
which  pervades  the  place,  I  discover  a  gloomy,  heartless- 
looking  old  man,  in  whose  soul  the  last  spark  of  humanity 
seems  to  have  been  long  since  crushed  out  by  the  hard  and 
spirit-blighting  avocation  he  is  pursuing.  Hesitatingly  and 
timidly  I  approached  the  old  man,  and  laid  my  priceless 
treasure  on  the  counter  before  him. 

"Sir,  what  will  you  loan  me  on  this  watch  and  chain," 
I  said  in  a  choking  voice.  "I  will  redeem  it  in  a  month. 
It  is  a  precious  keepsake — the  gift  of  a  very  dear  friend — 
and  I  would  not  lose  it  for  ten  times  its  value." 

"Madam,  I  yoost  gives  you  ten  dollar.  I  no  like  to  take 
him ;  he  not  much  vort — him  not  much  sale,"  said  the  old 
man,  turning  over  in  his  hands  and  carefully  examining 
my  treasure. 

"  Oh !  sir,  the  watch  alone  is  worth  fifty  dollars,  and  the 
chain  cost  twenty-five  but  a  year  ago." 

"Yell,  madam,  such  t'ings  be  not  much  sale — him  be  not 
much  vort ;  me  no  got  much  monish  to  spare,  but  I  gives 
you  twelf  dollar.  Dat  ish  more  as  him  ish  vort,  but  I 
gives  you  dat." 

"  Oh !  sir,  I  can  not  take  it.  Twelve  dollars  for  a  watch 
and  chain  worth  at  least  seventy-five! — a  treasure  with 
which  I  would  not  part  for  five  times  that  amount.  You 
can  certainly  give  me  more  than  that." 

"Yell,  madam,  I  gives  you  feefsain  dollar.  Dat  ish  too 
much — dat  ish  much  more  as  him  ish  vort — but  I  gives 
you  dat,  and  not  one  cent  more." 

"  Sir,  I  accept  your  offer.  Give  me  the  fifteen  dollars 
and  make  out  my  ticket.  I  will  redeem  it  in  a  month  from 
this  time." 

"Was  ish  de  name?" 

"S.  A.  Nelles." 


12  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

The  old  man  gave  me  my  ticket,  handed  me  fifteen  dol- 
lars in  bank-notes,  and  thus  was  the  sacrifice  completed. 
Turning  from  this  den  of  darkness,  almost  choked  with 
the  violence  of  my  emotions  at  parting  with  the  treasure 
which  was  so  highly  prized  on  account  of  the  precious 
memories  clustering  around  it,  I  again  sought  my  boarding- 
house.  My  mind  was  so  much  preoccupied  with  the  con- 
templation of  my  wretched  condition  that  I  scarcely  no- 
ticed that  my  feet  were  soaking  wet,  until  my  eyes,  falling 
upon  the  well-filled  show-window  of  a  large  shoe  store, 
reminded  me  that  my  shoes  were  full  of  holes,  and  utterly 
unfit  to  wear  in  the  prosecution  of  my  canvassing  during 
such  weather.  I  hesitated  a  short  time,  and  then,  enter- 
ing the  store,  asked  for  some  stout  shoes.  The  accommo- 
dating salesman  showed  me  some,  and  I  selected  a  good 
pair,  for  which  I  paid  three  dollars,  and  again  set  out. 
Reaching  my  boarding-house  I  went  at  once  to  my  room, 
and  sat  down  to  muse  over  my  situation  and  prospects. 

I  was  now  in  possession  of  twelve  dollars — enough  to 
pay  my  board  in  my  present  quarters  for  two  weeks :  when 
that  was  gone,  unless  my  business  improved  very  much, 
what  would  become  of  me  ?  How  could  I  live  on  one  dol- 
lar a  week — all  that  my  utmost  efforts  had  been  able  to 
ea;rn  during  the  last  week  ?  And  still  the  rain  continues 
to  pour  down ;  still  I  sit  in  forced  idleness  in  my  lonely 
room;  and  still  my  mind  is  dreamily  contemplating  my 
present  and  past,  and  speculating  of  the  future.  The  past ! 
ah!  the  sorrowful  past!  It  is  full  of  grief  and  bitterness; 
all  marred  and  scarred  over  with  the  baleful  effects  of  pas- 
sion, and  wrong,  and  treachery,  and  deceit;  and,  as  I  con- 
template the  fearful  picture,  my  brain  almost  becomes  wild 
with  the  dreadful  retrospection.  Suddenly  I  started  up 
with  convulsive  energy.     "I  can  not  sit  still  in  idleness,'* 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  13 

I  said.  "If  I  do,  I  will  become  crazy.  I  must  work,  work, 
or  reflection  upon  the  horrible  nightmare  of  the  past  will 
deprive  me  of  my  reason.  I  will  write  the  history  of  my 
life — will  transfer  to  paper  the  load  which  now  oppresses 
my  aching  brain ;  and  in  the  employment  thus  created,  will 
find  at  least  a  temporary  relief  from  that  still,  frightful 
contemplation  which  has  already  driven  me  to  the  verge 
of  distraction." 

The  result  of  this  determination,  dear  reader,  is  in  the 
following  pages;  and  if,  in  perusing  them,  you  should  find 
something  to  condemn,  let  me  entreat  you  to  judge  in 
charity,  and  not  in  hardness  of  heart.  Remember  that 
frail  humanity  is  never  perfect — that  to  err  is  the  common 
lot  of  mortals,  and  that  for  every  error  delineated  in  the 
following  truthful  record  of  my  life,  my  spirit  has  already 
atoned  a  thousand  fold  in  the  bitterness  of  sackcloth  and 
ashes.  Sufier,  also,  the  peculiar  circumstances  in  which  I 
was  placed  during  my  entire  youth,  to  apologize  to  some 
extent  for  any  errors  I  may  have  committed.  With  this 
brief  appeal  to  the  better  and  more  kindly  feelings  of  my 
auditors,  I  proceed  to  the  execution  of  the  task  I  have  as- 
signed myself. 


14  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 


CHAPTER  11. 

I  was  born  on  the  7th  day  of  September,  in  the  year 
1837,  six  miles  from  Atlanta,  in  the  State  of  Georgia. 
My  father,  whose  name  was  George  F.  Hamilton,  was  an 
Englishman  by  birth,  and  was  a  grandson  of  George 
Hamilton,  of  London,  a  celebrated  Freemason,  who,  in  the 
year  1737,  as  Provincial  Grand  Master,  established  the 
first  lodge  of  that  ancient  and  honorable  fraternity  at 
Geneva,  Switzerland.  My  father  was  made  a  Mason  in 
early  life,  and  in  due  time  attained  to  the  degree  of  Royal 
Arch.  I  do  not  know  that  he  ever  attained  any  position 
of  very  great  trust  or  dignity  in  the  fraternity,  but  there 
is  abundant  proof  that  he  was  a  faithful  and  zealous  mem- 
ber, and  was  very  warmly  attached  to  the  principles  of  the 
Order.  I  mention  his  connection  with  Masonry  only  to 
more  fully  explain  some  events  of  my  life  which  would 
otherwise,  perhaps,  be  partially  in  the  dark. 

My  mother  was  a  Frenchwoman.  She  was  a  daughter 
of  Louis  Lacorne,  also  celebrated  in  the  annals  of  Free- 
masonry, and  at  one  time  the  deputy  of  the  Count  of 
Clermont,  Grand  Master  of  the  Grand  Lodge  of  France. 

My  parents  were  married  in  the  jcity  of  London,  Eng- 
land, in  the  year  1822,  and  resided  there  for  three  years. 
I  have  not  been  able  to  learn  that  their  lives  were  marked 
by  any  events  of  special  importance  during  this  time. 
They  appear  to  have  lived  very  quietly  and  happily  together 
for  the  entire  period.  About  the  beginning  of  the  year 
1825,  my  father,  having  been  impressed  with  the  growing 
greatness  of  the  new  world,  determined  to  emigrate  thither, 
and  accordingly,  in  the  summer  of  that  year,  he  and  my 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  15 

mother  came  to  the  United  States.  Upon  their  arrival 
here  they  settled  in  Virginia,  where  they  continued  to 
reside  until  in  the  year  1831.  During  their  residence 
there,  my  oldest  brother  and  sister  were  born. 

In  1830  father  purchased  the  plantation  where  I  was 
born,  near  Atlanta,  as  before  stated,  and  in  1831  re- 
moved there.  The  country  was  comparatively  new  at  the 
time,  and  Atlanta  then  presented  but  little  the  appearance 
of  the  flourishing  city  it  has  since  grown  to  be.  My  father 
and  mother  continued  to  live  contentedly  and  happily  in 
their  new  home  until  1840,  during  which  time  two  chil- 
dren were  born  to  them — my  brother  next  older  than 
myself,  and  the  subject  of  this  sketch.  Our  family  then 
consisted  of  six  persons — father,  mother  and  four  children, 
George  Franklin,  Kate,  Henry,  and  myself  We  had  a 
valuable  plantation,  well  stocked  with  slaves,  horses,  cattle, 
etc.;  a  beautiful  home  in  the  midst  of  a  lovely  grove  of 
cedars,  magnolias,  and  other  magnificent  shade-trees ;  while 
the  air  was  laden  with  the  perfume  of  flowers,  and  filled 
with  the  music  of  the  feathered  songsters  who  inhabited 
the  wood.  A  bubbling  spring,  but  a  short  distance  from 
the  house,  lent  an  air  of  delicious  coolness  to  the  land- 
scape. What  was  there  left  to  desire  ?  But,  alas !  even 
in  the  garden  of  Eden,  pain  and  sorrow  found  an  entrance 
and  a  resting-place,  and  so  it  was  with  our  little  para- 
dise. 

But,  before  treating  of  the  events  which  finally  led  to 
the  entire  separation  of  our  family,  I  must  beg  the  indulg- 
ence of  my  readers  while  I  speak  more  particularly  of 
myself  My  childhood  w^as  far  from  being  a  happy  one. 
Even  in  my  earliest  years  it  was  easy  for  me  to  perceive 
that  I  was  no  favorite  with  my  mother,  though  I  would 
not  willingly  utter  a  word  against  her  memory.  She  was 
2 


16 

kind  to  me,  and  always  strove  to  do  her  duty  toward  me, 
but  it  was  very  plainly  to  be  seen  that  her  kindness  to- 
ward me  was  the  result  of  a  sense  of  duty,  and  was  not 
prompted  by  the  powerful  overflow  of  maternal  love  and 
affection  which  influenced  and  controlled  her  conduct  to- 
ward the  elder  children  of  the  family,  and  especially  to- 
ward my  sister.  I  do  not  know  whether  there  was  any- 
thing peculiar  in  my  appearance  or  deportment  which 
caused  this  distinction  to  be  made,  but  certain  it  is  that 
the  difference  existed,  and  that  its  effect  was  finally  to 
produce  an  entire  change  in  my  disposition,  and  doubt- 
less exerted  a  marked  influence  upon  my  entire  life.  As 
a  result  of  this  coolness,  it  may  be  mentioned  that  at  the 
early  age  of  four  or  five  years,  I  abstained  almost  entirely 
from  taking  any  part  in  the  sports  of  my  brothers  and  sis- 
ters. Even  at  that  early  age,  I  was  fond  of  solitude — 
used  to  steal  away  by  myself  to  brood  over  my  loneliness, 
and  to  wonder  why  it  was  that  the  love  which  I  daily  saw 
lavished  upon  others,  and  for  which  my  heart  so  piteously 
yearned,  was  withheld  from  me.  People  were  accustomed 
to  say  of  me,  "  what  a  strange  child  she  is,"  and  to  ex- 
press surprise  at  my  serious,  old-womanish  ways.  Ah! 
parents,  beware  how  you  blight  the  sunny  days  of  child- 
hood by  any  seeming  indifference  toward  any  of  your 
offspring.  See  to  it  that  you  chill  not  the  spirit  of  one 
by  a  more  kindly  or  affectionate  demeanor  toward  another. 
You  may  think  that  the  neglected  one  has  not  sufficient 
discrimination  to  perceive  the  difference,  but  be  assured  that 
no  one  is  as  well  able  to  discern  the  absence  of  affection 
as  an  infant  child.  It  may  not  be  apparent  to  those  of 
more  mature  years,  or  even  hardly  perceptible  to  yourself, 
but  in  infancy  there  is  a  kind  of  spirit-communion  which 
infallibly  detects  the  want  of  love,  and  the  knowledge  of 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  17 

that  want  may  exercise  a  most  baleful  influence  upon  the 
entire  future  of  your  child.     But  to  return  to  myself. 

With  my  father  the  case  was  quite  dififerent.  I  always 
appeared  to  be  a  favorite  of  his,  and  when  he  was  at 
home,  and  I  could  enjoy  his  society,  I  was  as  happy  as 
heart  could  wish.  But  this  was  only  a  small  portion  of 
the  time.  Business  frequently  and  constantly  called  him 
away,  and  engrossed  the  greater  portion  of  his  attention, 
and  thus  my  life  went  on — a  dark,  gloomy  sky,  o'ercast 
with  clouds,  with  only  here  and  there  a  ray  of  sunshine 
breaking  through  the  rift. 

In  the  latter  part  of  1840  my  father's  health  began  to 
fail,  and  it  soon  became  apparent  that  without  some  relief 
he  would  ere  long 

'*  Sleep  the  sleep  that  knows  no  waking" 

His  physician  having  advised  a  change  of  air  and 
scenery,  it  was  decided  to  go  to  Philadelphia,  where  he 
had  a  half  brother  living,  in  the  hope  that  the  bracing  air 
of  the  North  would  restore  somewhat  of  vigor  to  his  shat- 
tered frame.  Accordingly  the  whole  family  went  thither 
and  took  up  their  abode  in  a  pleasant  mansion  in  the  City 
of  Brotherly  Love. 

Month  after  month  passed  away,  but  brought  no  relief 
to  the  weary  and  enfeebled  frame  of  the  sufferer.  Slowly, 
but  surely  and  steadily,  he  approached  the  confines  of  that 
land  "  from  whose  bourne  no  traveler  returns,"  and  when 
we  had  been  in  Philadelphia  about  two  years,  my  father 
one  day  called  me  to  his  bedside,  and,  laying  his  hand  upon 
my  head,  said : 

"What  will  my  poor  little  daughter  do  when  she  has 
lost  her  papa  ?  who  will  then  love  her  as  papa  does  now  ?" 

I  asked  him  what  he  meant  by  saying  I  would  lose  him. 


18  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

and  he  told  me  he  was  going  to  live  with  Jesus,  and  that 
if  I  was  a  good  child  and  prayed  to  God,  he  would  let  me 
live  with  Jesus  too.  Never  while  I  live  can  I  forget  the 
effect  of  this  simple  conversation  upon  my  mind.  I  had 
but  little  idea  of  what  he  meant,  but  his  solemn  manner 
produced  the  most  saddening  effect  upon  my  childish 
heart.  I  had  a  sort  of  dim  impression  that  his  language 
imported  some  great  calamity  to  me,  but  just  what  it  was, 
was  quite  beyond  my  comprehension.  Poor  child  that  I 
was.  I  have  since  learned  in  the  bitterness  of  unmitigated 
sorrow  the  awful  portent  to  me  of  the  journey  which  my 
dear  father  was  about  undertaking,  but  then  I  only  re- 
garded it  as  some  earthly  journey,  and  cried  to  accompany 
him,  saying  I  wanted  to  go  when  papa  did. 

The  next  morning  father  sent  for  his  friend.  Captain 
Charles  Lake.  When  he  came,  I  was  sitting  on  the  bed 
with  my  father.  Father  put  me  in  his  arms,  saying,  "  Be 
kind  to  my  little  pet  when  I  am  gone."  Captain  Lake 
promised  to  be  a  father  to  me,  and  soon  afterward  the  doctor 
came  in  with  two  attorneys,  and  I  was  carried  from  the 
room.  I  did  not  know  what  was  going  on,  but  thought 
they  were  going  to  do  something  to  my  papa — was  terri- 
fied and  wanted  to  get  back  into  the  room.  I  did  not  see 
him  again  that  day,  and  when  night  came,  and  my  old 
nurse,  aunt  Silvia,  put  me  to  bed,  saying  he  was  sleeping 
and  must  not  be  disturbed  to  give  me  my  usual  good-night 
kiss,  I  felt  as  though  my  heart  was  broken,  but  finally 
sobbed  myself  to  sleep.  My  father  was  already  sleeping 
the  sleep  of  death,  but  I  knew  it  not. 

The  next  morning  I  wanted  to  see  papa,  and  old  nurse 
took  me  in  her  arms  and  carried  me  into  the  room.  Father 
lay  on  a  board,  covered  with  a  white  sheet,  and  I  thought 
him  asleep,  and  asked  old  nurse  to  let  me  kiss  him.     She 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  19 

put  me  down  on  the  floor,  and  I  kissed  him,  Oh !  so  gently, 
for  fear  of  waking  him,  and  then  went  into  mother's  room. 
I  found  her  in  tears,  and  said: 

"Mother,  what  is  the  matter?  What  are  you  crying 
about?" 

"My  child,"  said  she,  "did  you  know  your  father  was 
dead?" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  saying  papa  is  dead?  He  is 
asleep.  I  just  saw  him,  and  kissed  him  very  easy,  because 
I  did  not  want  to  waken  him." 

"My  poor  child!  your  papa  will  never  waken;  he  will 
never  come  back  to  you  any  more." 

Just  then  sister  Kate  came  into  the  room.  She  was 
crying  bitterly,  and  I  too  began  to  cry.  I  did  not  realize 
or  fully  understand  that  my  father  was  gone,  never  to  re- 
turn ;  but  they  were  all  crying,  and  my  childish  heart  being 
filled  with  terror,  I  cried  in  sympathy  with  them.  This 
morning  was  the  last  time  I  saw  my  father's  remains  until 
the  day  of  the  funeral. 

How  vividly  did  the  incidents  of  that  first  funeral  I  ever 
witnessed  imprint  themselves  upon  my  memory!  Even 
the  most  trifling  events  of  that  sad  day  are  as  distinctly 
photographed  on  my  brain  as  though  they  occurred  but 
yesterday.  Captain  Lake  took  me  into  the  parlor — the 
room  was  full  of  strange  people  —  and  there  in  a  coffin,  the 
lid  of  which  was  raised,  lay  all  that  was  left  of  my  dear, 
dear  father.  Obedient  to  the  direction  of  Captain  Lake,  I 
pressed  my  last  kiss  upon  the  cold  and  marble  lips  of  the 
inanimate  form  before  us,  and  then  the  funeral  services  be- 
gan. The  man  of  God  read,  from  the  eleventh  chapter  of 
the  gospel  according  to  St.  John,  that  beautiful  story  of  the 
raising  of  Lazarus  from  the  grave  by  our  Saviour,  and  told 


20  ANNIE   NELLES  ;  »Oil, 

US  that  even  so  would  Christ  in  the  latter  day  raise  our 
father  from  the  tomb;  and  then  they  sung, 

Hark,  from  the  tombs  a  doleful  sound, 

Mine  ears,  attend  the  cry; 
Ye  living  men,  come  view  the  ground 

Where  you  must  shortly  lie, 

I  have  never  heard  that  beautiful,  yet  mournful,  hymn 
sung  since  that  time  without  feeling  a  strong  inclination  to 
shed  tears.  Never  do  I  hear  its  melody  swelling  and  float- 
ing on  the  air  but  memory  carries  me  back  through  the 
checkered  scenes  of  my  life  to  that  sad,  sad  day  when  my 
sorrows  really  commenced.  Oh !  could  I  then  have  fore- 
seen what  the  next  twenty-five  years  of  my  life  would 
bring  forth — could  I  that  day  have  had  even  the  most 
transient,  fleeting,  uncertain  glance  at  what  was  in  store 
for  me  in  the  future,  how  gladly  would  I  have  been  laid  to 
rest  beside  the  still  form  in  its  last,  narrow  house!  But 
let  us  not  anticipate. 

When  we  reached  the  grave,  and  preparations  were  made 
for  depositing  in  the  ground  the  coffin  in  which  I  had  just 
seen  the  remains  of  my  father  inclosed,  then,  for  the  first 
time,  I  began  to  realize  that  I  was  forever  separated  from 
him  whom  I  had  so  loved.  Oh!  how  my  little  heart  then 
throbbed  in  its  agony.  Frantically  I  begged  Captain  Lake 
not  to  let  them  put  papa  in  that  dark,  deep  hole,  and  im- 
plored him  to  take  the  loved  body  away  with  us.  The 
services  were  finally  concluded  by  the  congregation  singing. 

Why  do  we  mourn  departing  friends, 

Or  shake  at  death's  alarms  ? 
'T  is  but  the  voice  that  Jesus  sends 

To  call  them  to  his  arms. 

The  grave  was  filled  up,  the  congregation  slowly  dispersed, 
and  I  returned  with  my  mother,  brothers  and  sister,  and 
Captain  Lake,  to  our  now  lonely  home. 


THE    LIFE^  OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  21 

Lonely,  indeed,  was  this  home  to  me.  All  that  made 
it  dear  to  my  childish  heart  was  gone.  My  father,  the 
only  one  who  had  ever  seemed  to  love  me;  the  only  one 
who  had  ever  taken  any  interest  in  my  childish  joys  or  sor- 
rows; the  only  one  to  whom  I  could  go  with  my  little  griefs 
or  cares,  and  feel  assured  of  sympathy;  the  only  one  toward 
whom  my  heart  had  ever  gone  out  in  love ;  in  short,  my  all, 
was  lying  cold  and  motionless  in  the  graveyard  we  had 
just  left;  never  more  to  listen  to  my  childish  tales  of  grief 
and  sorrow;  never  more  to  whisper  sweet  words  of  com- 
fort and  paternal  love,  or  to  gladden  and  cheer  my  deso- 
late heart  with  his  presence.  He  was  sleeping  the  last, 
long  sleep — that  sleep  which  can  know  no  waking  until 
the  last  great  day  when  the  trump  of  the  angel  Gabriel 
shall  summon  all  nations,  and  the  Great  King  shall  come 
to  judge  the  quick  and  the  dead.  Yes,  I  was  alone,  and 
with  a  heart  strangely  saddened  for  one  so  young — with 
a  spirit  crushed,  broken  and  blighted,  by  the  sad  scenes 
through  which  I  had  passed,  I  sought  my  couch  and 
sobbed  myself  to  sleep. 


22 


CHAPTER  III. 

Six  months  have  passed  away  since  the  close  of  the  last 
chapter — six  months  have  rolled  into  eternity  since  my 
father's  death,  and  we  are  again  at  our  old  home  near  At- 
lanta. Oh!  how  vividly  does  everything  recall  to  my 
mind  the  dear  friend  I  have  lost.  Every  room  in  the 
large,  old-fashioned,  two-story  house  recalls  to  my  mind 
some  scene  of  joy  and  happiness  in  which  he  had  partici- 
pated ;  the  porches  which  surrounded  it  on  all  sides  were 
those  in  which  he  used  to  sit,  on  summer  evenings,  while 
he  amused  and  instructed  me  with  many  a  quaint,  and,  to 
my  childish  nature,  interesting  story — even  the  grove,  the 
flowers  and  birds  seemed  vocal  with  memories  of  my  lost 
parent.  What  wonder  that  I  wept  as  I  reflected  that  I 
should  never  see  him  more  ?  For  to  my  young  fancy  it 
seemed  to  me  that  the  entombing  of  the  remains  which  I 
had  witnessed,  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  an  eternal 
separation.  I  left  the  house  and  went  to  the  negro  quar- 
ters— a  row  of  small,  neat,  white  cabins  which  gave  the 
place  the  appearance  of  a  little  village — but  even  these 
reminded  me  of  my  poor,  dear,  dead  papa,  and  I  turned  away 
and  wept  in  the  bitterness  of  my  grief.  If  it  be  thought 
strange  that  a  child  of  six  years  of  age  should  feel  sorrow 
so  acutely,  and  retain  such  a  vivid  recollection  of  it,  it 
must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  peculiar  circumstances  of 
my  childhood  had  given  me  habits  of  reflection  far  beyond 
my  years,  and  that  such  reflection  had  taught  me  that 
with  the  death  of  my  father  the  sunlight  of  my  young  life 
had  gone  out. 

When  my  father's  will  was  published,  it  was  found  that 


THE    LIFE    OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  28 

he  had  appointed  Captain  Lake  his  executor,  and  had  also 
nominated  him  as  guardian  for  the  children.  He  was  to 
have  the  general  superintendence  of  every  thing;  was  to 
care  for  the  property  and  see  that  the  children  were  prop- 
erly raised  and  educated.  How  well  he  fullBlled  his  trust 
let  the  sequel  show.  My  father's  plantation,  the  slaves 
and  other  property  on  it,  were  valued  at  thirty  thousand 
dollars  or  thereabouts,  and  there  was,  besides,  twelve  thou- 
sand dollars  in  cash.  By  the  terms  of  the  will,  this 
money  was  to  be  put  at  interest,  and  the  interest  applied 
to  the  education  of  the  children — ^the  balance  of  the  prop- 
erty was  bequeathed  to  our  mother  for  her  natural  life,  and 
after  her  death  was  to  go  in  equal  proportions  to  the  chil- 
dren. 

The  weeks  and  months  passed  away,  and  nothing  was 
done  towards  the  education  of  the  children,  so  carefully 
provided  for  by  my  dear  father's  will.  Nineteen  months 
passed  away  thus,  and  it  began  to  be  whispered  about  that 
our  Guardian  would  soon  take  our  father's  place  in  the 
family  and  be  invested  with  the  entire  control  of  every 
thing.  The  children  were  all  very  much  opposed  to  moth- 
er's marrying  him,  and  I,  in  particular,  was  very  bitter 
upon  the  subject.  I  had  early  learned  to  dislike  the  man, 
and  I  had  a  sort  of  intuition  that  evil  would  come  of  this 
marriage  if  it  was  finally  consummated.  We  knew  that 
father  had  placed  the  utmost  confidence  in  Captain  Lake 
as  an  intimate  Mend,  and  a  brother  Mason  (how  unworthy 
he  was  of  that  high  and  holy  name  let  this  truthful  his- 
tory tell)  but  still  his  strange  neglect  of  our  interests  had 
led  us  to  distrust  him,  and  it  was  believed  that  his  only 
object  in  marrying  our  mother  was  to  get  more  completely 
the  control  of  the  property,  the  more  eJOfectually  to  carry 
out  his  deliberately  formed  plan  of  robbing  the  orphan 


24  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

children  of  the  man  and  brother  who  had  trusted  him  with 
all.  The  elder  children  remonstrated  with  niother  on  her 
contemplated  marriage,  and  I  declared  that  I  would  never 
call  him  my  father  or  acknowledge  him  as  such. 

But  all  our  remonstrances  and  our  opposition  were  of 
no  avail.  On  the  7th  day  of  March  in  the  year  1845, 
Captain  Charles  Lake  and  my  mother  were  married,  and 
he  was  acknowledged  master  of  the  house  and  invested 
with  the  powers  which  he  had  so  long  coveted.  The  wed- 
ding took  place  on  that  blackest  of  all  days  in  the  calen- 
dar— Friday — and  was  a  very  quiet  affair.  But  few  guests 
were  present,  and  thus  was  accomplished  the  second  great 
sorrow  of  my  life.  Oh !  tongue  can  never  tell  the  vast 
amount  of  sorrow,  and  wretchedness,  and  suffering,  which 
would  have  been  saved  to  us  all,  had  mother  but  heeded  the 
remonstrances  of  her  children,  and  foregone  this  marriage. 
She  doubtless  thought,  in  uniting  herself  with  Captain 
Lake,  she  was  promoting  her  own  welfare  and  happiness 
and  that  of  her  children ;  but  in  after  years,  when  it  was 
too  late  for  repentance,  she  found,  alas !  that  she  had  been 
most  sadly  deceived.  Were  one  disposed  to  be  supersti- 
tious about  "black  Friday,"  they  could  find  in  this  mar- 
riage a  very  strong  argument  in  support  of  their  faith,  and 
could  well  exclaim :  "  How  appropriate  that  they  should 
have  been  married  on  a  Friday." 

After  the  marriage  of  my  mother,  matters,  so  far  as  the 
children  were  concerned,  were  even  worse  than  before, 
for  whereas.  Captain  Lake  had  before  given  some  little 
attention  to  them  in  order  to  deceive  my  mother  and  in- 
duce her  consent  to  the  marriage,  he  now  totally  neglected 
them,  and  she  very  soon  found  that  she  had  injured,  in- 
stead of  improving,  their  prospects  by  marrying  again. 
Studied  neglect,  then  cool  indifference,  and  finally  positive 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  .25 

dislike,  took  the  place  of  the  slight  interest  which  the 
Captain  had  Jbefore  manifested  in  us,  and  but  a  very  short 
time  elapsed  ere  mother  became  aware  that,  in  marrying 
the  second  time,  she  had  committed  the  greatest  mistake 
of  her  life. 

Brother  Henry's  health,  meantime,  was  failing  rapidly. 
His  was  a  delicate  frame,  a  jSnely  organized  nervous  sys- 
tem ;  one  of  those  organizations  on  which  pain  and  sorrow 
produce  their  most  blighting  effects,  and  which  are  always 
selected  by  disease  as  their  special  victims.  He  had  al- 
most worshipped  our  father  in  his  lifetime,  and  the  intense 
anguish  caused  by  his  death  had  sensibly  affected  brother's 
health,  and  half  produced  effects  from  which  he  never  re- 
covered. Some  time  before  mother's  marriage  it  was  feared 
he  was  going  into  a  decline,  and  about  the  time  of  the 
wedding  it  became  apparent  from  the  hectic  flush  upon 
my  poor  brother's  cheek,  the  hollow,  hacking  cough,  the 
bent  form  and  listless  step,  that  the  fell  destroyer,  con- 
sumption, had  fastened  its  fangs  upon  his  delicate  frame. 
This  was  the  disease  with  which  my  poor  father  had  died, 
and  Henry  had  inherited  it  from  him.  The  seeds  had  lain 
undeveloped  in  his  system  until  the  present  time,  and  per- 
haps, but  for  the  weight  of  sorrow  which  pressed  upon  us 
all,  he  might  have  been  spared  even  for  years.  But  it  is 
one  of  the  characteristics  of  this  fatal  disease  that  its  ef- 
fects are  hastened,  and  its  early  development  promoted,  by 
great  emotions  of  joy  or  sorrow;  and  brother  Henry  was 
no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  The  cloud  of  sadness 
and  grief  which  o'ershadowed  us  all,  had,  in  the  most  fear- 
ful degree,  hastened  the  crisis  of  the  disorder ;  and  now, 
when  summer  was  filling  all  the  earth  with  beauty  and 
gladness,  he  was  a  confirmed  and  hopeless  invalid.  All  that 
care  and  skill  could  do  to  stay  the  onward  march  of  the 


26        •  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

destroyer  was  done,  but  without  avail.  He  lingered  some 
time;  like  our  dear  father,  he  clung  with  sorrowful  te- 
nacity to  life,  but  at  last  the  time  had  come  when  the  fell 
monster  and  grim  tyrant  could  no  longer  be  resisted. 

Since  mother's  marriage  the  summer  had  waxed  and 
waned;  autumn,  with  its  georgeous  dyes  and  gaudy  col- 
ors, had  passed  away ;  another  and  another  round  of  sea- 
sons had  rolled  away  into  eternity;  and  when  autumn 
leaves  were  again  falling,  my  brother  was  at  rest.  Sadly 
we  laid  his  mortal  remains  in  the  silent  tomb,  there  to  rest 
until  the  omnipotent  voice  of  Him  who  has  said,  "  I  am 
the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,"  shall  summon  him  from 
the  dust  of  the  earth  to  everlasting  happiness  at  the  right 
hand  of  God. 

Upon  my  already  tortured  heart  this  blow  fell  with 
crushing  force.  After  the  death  of  our  father,  Henry  had 
essayed,  so  far  as  was  in  his  power,  to  supply  his  place  to 
me.  He  had  seemed  to  take  much  more  interest  in  me 
than  he  ever  did  before.  He  had  petted  and  caressed  me ; 
called  me  his  dear,  his  pet ;  strove  by  all  means  in  his 
power  to  cheer  and  comfort  me,  and  had  succeeded  in 
awakening  in  my  little  heart  a  feeling  of  love,  second  only 
to  that  which  had  warmed  it  toward  my  poor  papa.  Judge 
then,  dear  reader,  of  the  bitterness  of  my  anguish  as  I 
stood  beside  his  grave,  and  beheld  the  clods  of  the  valley 
piled  upon  his  breast,  hiding  forever  from  my  earthly  vision 
his  much  loved  form.  What  wonder  that  in  the  utter  des- 
olation of  that  moment  I  even  dared  to  murmur  against 
the  justice  of  the  decrees  of  Providence.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  a  blighting,  withering  curse  was  upon  me.  Every 
object  upon  which  I  gazed  with  the  eyes  of  affection  was 
doomed  to  fade  and  die  before  me. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  27 

"'Twas  ever  thus  from  childhood's  hour — 
I've  seen  my  fondest  hopes  decay; 
I  never  loved  a  tree  or  flower, 
But  'twas  the  first  to  fade  away." 

I  never  nursed  a  dear  gazelle, 

To  glad  me  with  its  soft  black  eye, 
But  when  it  learned  to  love  me  well, 

And  know  me,  it  was  sure  to  die. 

But  though  my  beloved  brother  was  gone,  I  was  not  yet 
entirely  desolate.  I  had  a  darling  little  half-sister — one 
of  those  cherubs  which  are  said  to  more  nearly  approxi- 
mate the  angels  of  heaven  than  any  other  created  thing 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  At  the  time  of  Henry's  death 
she  was  nearly  a  year  and  a  half  old,  having  been  born 
about  a  year  after  mother's  marriage  with  Captain  Lake. 
She  was,  I  think,  the  sweetest  child  of  that  age  I  ever  saw ; 
so  bright,  so  smart  and  intelligent,  as  it  were — far  beyond 
her  tender  age.  Oh !  how  I  loved  that  darling  babe.  I 
was  never  so  happy  as  when  I  had  her  in  my  arms,  or  was 
romping  with  her  upon  the  nursery  floor.  And  the  little 
thing  seemed  to  fully  reciprocate  all  the  love  and  affection 
which  I  so  warmly  and  freely  lavished  upon  her.  I  had 
named  her  May,  and  she,  in  her  childish,  lisping  voice, 
always  called  me  Nin.  "  Many  a  time  and  oft  "  would  she 
come  to  me,  and,  putting  her  little  white,  soft  arms  about 
my  neck,  would  lisp  out,  "Me  'ove  oo,  Nin,"  and  then  put 
up  her  little  mouth  for  the  kiss  she  was  sure  to  receive. 

Besides  her,  there  were  still  little  brother  Frank  and  sister 
Kate.  They  were,  both  of  them,  much  older  than  I,  and 
there  was  but  little  in  common  between  us;  but  still  they 
were  my  brother  and  sister — the  offspring  of  a  dearly-loved 
father — and  that  of  itself  was  a  bond  of  sympathy  between 
us.  The  affectionate  reverence  in  which  we  held  the  mem- 
ory of  that  dear,  departed  parent,  would  have  bound  us  to- 


28  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

gether  even  if  there  had  been  no  other  ties  existing  be- 
tween us,  and  we  were  further  united  in  a  most  cordial 
dislike  of  our  step-father.  Besides,  my  step-father  was 
cross  and  abusive  to  Frank,  and  sympathy  with  him,  under 
the  injustice  of  which  he  was  often  the  victim,  had  drawn 
me  yet  closer  to  my  only  remaining  brother. 

But  I  was  soon  to  be  separated  from  them — from  my 
brother  and  sister,  baby  May  and  all.  Father  had  a  half- 
brother,  by  the  name  of  Adam  Mason,  living  in  New  Or- 
leans, whom  I  had  never  seen,  though  I  knew  his  wife, 
aunt  Kittie.  He  and  father  had  never  been  on  good  terms 
with  each  other,  though  between  our  family  and  aunt 
Kittie  the  most  kindly  feelings  had  always  existed.  She 
had  visited  us  on  several  occasions,  and  had  taken  a  great 
fancy  to  me — called  me  Tier  girl,  said  she  was  going  to 
take  me  to  live  with  her — and  did  all  in  her  power  to  win 
my  childish  love  and  affection,  in  which  efforts  I  must  say 
she  was  rather  successful.  I  loved  her  more  than  any  one 
else  outside  my  own  family;  but  when,  some  two  and  a 
half  years  after  mother's  second  marriage,  she  wrote  to  us, 
asking  that  I  might  come  and  live  with  her,  keep  her  com- 
pany, and  do  errands  for  her,  I  felt  my  heart  sink  within 
me  at  the  prospect  of  leaving  the  home  and  friends  to 
which  I  was  so  warmly  attached.  But  my  mother  thought 
it  best  for  me  to  go;  my  step-father  was  unkind  and  often 
cruel,  not  only  to  me,  but  to  all  the  family,  and  mother 
thought  that,  the  pang  of  separation  once  past,  I  would  be 
happier  with  my  uncle  and  aunt — removed  from  the  tyran- 
nical treatment  of  my  step-father,  and  beyond  his  blight- 
ing influence — ^than  I  would  be  at  home.  Accordingly,  it 
was  decided  that  my  step-father  should  accompany  me  to 
New  Orleans,  place  me  in  the  care  of  my  uncle  and  aunt, 
and  then  return  to  his  home.     The  arrangements  were  all 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  29 

made,  and  at  last  the  day  arrived  upon  which  1  was  to  bid 
farewell  to  home  and  friends,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  forever. 

Ah  !  how  shall  I  describe  that  parting  ?  I  was  to  go 
forth  from  home  and  friends;  to  exchange  the  society  of 
those  from  whose  companionship  I  had  never  been  separ- 
ated, for  association  with  comparative  strangers ;  to  leave 
mother,  brother  and  sisters,  and  to  accept  in  lieu  of  the 
kind  and  fraternal  attention  I  had  received  from  them,  the 
friendship  of  relatives  of  whom  I  knew  next  to  nothing, 
and  above  all,  I  was  to  be  deprived  of  that  which  had  been 
my  principal  solace  and  comfort  since  the  death  of  my 
brother  Henry — the  society  of  my  constant  playmate,  baby 
May.  And  to  add  to  the  bitterness  of  my  sorrow,  in  that 
hour  of  parting  from  my  little  cherub,  something  whis- 
pered me  that  I  should  never  see  her  again  in  this  world. 
Was  it  a  presentiment  ?  What  wonder,  then,  that  when  this, 
to  me,  sad  day  came,  I  wept  as  though  my  heart  would 
break,  or  that,  long  after  the  journey  commenced,  I  refused 
to  be  comforted,  and  sat  in  the  corner  of  my  seat,  sobbing 
in  all  the  violence  of  unalloyed  and  unrestrained  grief? 

But  all  things  earthly  must  have  an  end,  and  so  it  was 
with  my  journey  and  my  grief  We  at  length  reached  the 
Crescent  City,  and  were  received  by  my  uncle  and  aunt 
with  a  degree  of  kindness  which  went  far  towards  recon- 
ciling me  to  my  lot.  After  seeing  me  safely  installed  in 
my  new  home,  and  transacting  some  business  which  he 
had  in  the  city,  my  step-father  prepared  to  return  home. 
Although  I  did  not  love  him,  still  I  hated  to  see  him  go, 
for  it  seemed  like  severing  the  last  link  that  bound  me  to 
home  and  friends.  I  did  not  shed  any  tears  at  his  depar- 
ture, and  yet  it  must  be  confessed  that  my  heart  swelled 
a  little  as  I  saw  him  walk  away  from  the  house  and  dis- 
appear around  the  next  corner.     My  uncle  and  aunt  after 


30  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

his  departure  treated  me,  if  possible,  with  more  kindness 
than  before,  and  apparently  did  all  in  their  power  to  make 
me  happy,  and  induce  me  to  forget,  or  at  least  to  remember 
without  regret,  the  home  I  had  left  behind. 

In  this  they  were  to  a  very  great  extent  successful.  I 
was  then  but  about  ten  years  old,  and  at  that  age,  old 
forms  and  old  impressions  are  easily  effaced  from  the 
mind.  The  bustle  and  stir  of  city  life,  the  new  faces  and 
new  scenes  presented  to  my  vision  eacji  day  of  my  life ; 
the  constant  change  going  on  around  me,  all  conspired  to 
wean  me  from  thoughts  of  home  and  friends,  while  the 
kindness  of  my  uncle  and  aunt  went  far  toward  supply- 
ing the  place  of  the  protectors  I  had  lost.  They  were 
quite  aged,  and  had  no  children  of  their  own,  and  upon 
me  they  lavished  all  the  affection  which  would  have  gone 
out  toward  their  own  offspring  had  they  ever  been  blest 
with  any.  Thus  time  passed,  and  I  would  have  been  happy 
could  I  have  had  baby  May  with  me.  But  I  longed  for 
her  society,  and  there  were  times  when,  even  in  my 
happiest  moments,  thoughts  of  her  would  rush  across  my 
mind  and  so  stir  the  fountains  of  my  heart  as  to  cause  my 
feelings  to  well  up  in  tears  which  I  could  not  repress. 

The  autumn  leaves  were  falling  when  I  went  to  live 
with  aunt  Kittie,  and  when  the  stern  winter  months  had 
come  and  gone,  and  spring  with  all  her  beauties  was  upon 
us,  my  aunt  one  day  received  a  letter  conveying  the  sad 
intelligence  that  both  sister  Kate  and  baby  May  were  very 
ill,  the  latter  with  scarlet  fever.  Upon  hearing  this  news 
I  wanted  to  go  home  at  once,  but  aunt  Kittie  would  not 
consent,  saying  I  would  take  the  fever  if  I  went.  I  urged 
and  entreated ;  almost  implored,  but  it  was  of  no  avail. 
I  felt  sure  May  wanted  to  see  her  old  playmate  "Nin,"  but 
aunt  was  resolute  in  her  refusal,  and  of  course  my  will 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  31 

had  to  yield  to  her's,  and  I  staid.  I  have  now  no  doubt 
that  what  aunt  did  was  for  the  best,  but  at  that  time  it  did 
not  seem  so  to  me,  and  my  spirit  was  strongly  inclined  to 
rise  up  in  rebellion  against  her's.  And  had  it  been  pos- 
sible for  me  to  have  foreseen  what  I  now  know,  there  is  but 
little  doubt  that  I  should  have  gone,  despite  aunt's  com- 
mands to  the  contrary,  or,  at  least,  made  the  attempt  to 
have  done  so. 

But  a  few  days  had  passed  when  another  letter  was  re- 
ceived, and  this  time  it  bore  the  sable  seal  which  tells, 
even  before  it  is  broken,  the  sad  tale  of  death,  and  sorrow, 
and  mourning.  My  darling  pet,  my  poor,  dear,  little  May 
was  no  more.  How  I  regretted  that  it  had  not  been  in 
my  power  to  see  her  before  she  died — how  bitterly  I  wept 
and  refused  to  be  comforted,  I  leave  to  the  imagination  of 
the  reader.  But  this  was  not  the  only  sad  intelligence 
which  this  ill-starred  letter  contained.  Sister  Kate  was 
not  expected  to  survive — was,  indeed,  at  the  point  of  death, 
and  there  was  an  urgent  request  that  I  should  be  sent  home 
at  once. 

Of  course,  there  was  no  delay  in  obeying  this  sad  sum- 
mons. Uncle  Adam  accompanied  me,  and  we  hastened  to 
Atlanta  by  the  most  expeditious  mode  of  conveyance ;  but, 
alas!  our  speed  was  too  slow  for  that  of  the  grim  monster 
who  was  claiming  my  loved  sister.  When  we  reached  the 
old  plantation  her  voice  was  not  raised  in  kindly  greeting 
to  the  returned  sister;  she  stretched  forth  no  hand  to  grasp 
mine  in  sisterly  welcome ;  her  eyes  darted  forth  no  beam- 
ing ray  of  love  for  the  long-absent  one ;  her  heart-throbs 
had  ended,  and  she  was  cold  and  motionless  in  the  em- 
brace of  death.  She  had  drawn  her  last  breath  but  ten 
minutes  before  our  arrival.  She  died  with  my  name  upon 
her  lips — almost  her  last  words  being  an  eager  inquiry  for 
B 


32  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

my  arrival.  This  intelligence  almost  stunned  me  witL 
grief.  Why  should  I  be  thus  tried?  It  seemed  to  me  that 
Fate  was  about  to  empty  her  entire  quiver  of  arrows  upon 
my  devoted  head. 

Reader,  bear  in  mind  that  I  was  at  this  time  less  than 
twelve  years  of  age — recall  the  sorrows  amid  which  my 
young  life  had  thus  far  been  past,  and  then  say  was  human 
being  ever  so  chastened  before  ?  First,  I  had  followed  my 
loved  father  to  the  grave — ^then  came  the  inexorable  sum- 
mons for  him  who  endeavored  to  supply  the  place  made 
vacant  in  my  heart  by  that  first  death,  my  brother  Henry — 
next,  the  pitiless  monster  called  for  my  darling  little  May, 
and  lastly  sister  Kate  was  taken  away.  And  to  add  sting 
to  the  poignancy  of  my  anguish,  the  last  two  had  died  in 
my  absence.  It  was  not  permitted  me  to  be  near  them 
in  their  dying  moments ;  to  receive  their  last  kisses  of 
affection ;  to  receive  their  latest  sighs  and  final  adieus  ; 
but,  far  removed  from  me  they  had  died,  and  I  could  never 
hope  again  to  listen  to  the  music  of  their  voices  until  the 
great  day.  I  was  then  young,  and  had  not  learned  to  bow 
in  mild  submission  to  the  will  of  "  Our  Father  who  art  in 
Heaven ;"  nor  had  I  learned  that  great  lesson,  under  all 
trials,  to  meekly  say,  "  Thy  will  be  done."  What  wonder 
then  that  I  murmured  at  the  dispensations  of  His  providence, 
or  that,  in  the  abandonment  of  utter  despair,  I  cast  myself 
prostrate  upon  little  May's  grave,  and  prayed  that  I,  too, 
might  die  ?  God  forgive  me  the  wickedness  of  that  prayer.  I 
have  since  learned  to  bear  trials  with  more  of  fortitude, 
and  have,  I  trust,  learned  to  bow  with  something  of  sub- 
mission to  whatever  chastenings  His  hand  may  lay  upon 
me,  and  in  so  doing  have  secured  "that  peace  which 
passeth  all  understanding." 

The  next  day  a  sad  procession  wended  its  way  to  the 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  33 

graveyard,  aud  there,  under  the  spreading  foliage  of  a 
mighty  oak,  beside  the  low  mounds  which  marked  the  last 
resting-places  of  brother  Henry  and  sister  May,  a  third 
grave  was  fashioned,  to  which,  with  appropriate  ceremonies, 
we  committed  the  mortal  remains  of  sister  Kate;  and 
brother  Frank  and  I  were  alone — the  only  survivors  of  a 
family  of  five  children.  'Tis  true,  our  mother  was  still 
spared  to  us,  but  she  was  so  much  under  the  influence  of 
our  step-father  that  she  seemed  more  like  a  stranger  than 
like  a  blood  relation — much  less  a  mother.  And  to  make 
our  position  still  more  unpleasant,  it  was  evident  that  our 
step-father — our  guardian — the  possessor  of  all  the  prop- 
erty which  father  had  left  for  our  benefit,  but  from  which  we 
were  destined  never  to  reap  any  advantage — he  who  had 
solemnly  pledged  to  our  dying  father  his  honor  as  a  man 
and  a  Mason  that  he  would  befriend  and  protect  his  orphan 
children,  and  who  was  now  only  seeking  to  deprive  us  of  our 
patrimony — he  evidently  hated  us,  and  desired  our  ab- 
sence, no  doubt  the  more  efiectually  to  carry  out  his  base 
purposes  toward  us. 

It  is  one  of  the  immutable  laws  of  human  nature  that 
when  we  have  done,  or  meditate  a  wrong  toward  another, 
the  presence  of  the  one  wronged,  either  in  thought  or 
deed,  becomes  hateful  to  us.  The  presence  of  the  person 
to  whom  we  have  done  wrong  is  a  sort  of  standing  re- 
proach to  the  wrong-doer — an  ever-present,  active  and 
powerful  monitor  to  the  conscience  which,  however  cal- 
loused and  seared  with  the  crime  of  years,  can  never  be 
wholly  stifled — ever  condemning  the  crime  which  has 
been  perpetrated,  and  sleeplessly  demanding  restitution. 
Our  step-father  was  no  exception  to  this  general  law  of  our 
nature.  Our  father  had  left  in  his  hands  a  sacred  trust  to  be 
exercised  for  the  benefit  of  the  orphans  ;  years  had  passed 


34  ANNIE    NTLLES;    OB, 

away,  and  not  a  single  step  had  been  taken  toward  the 
execution  of  that  trust,  but  instead  he  had  by  his  course 
deprived  us  entirely  of  the  benefits  which  our  father's 
legacy  was  intended  to  secure — ^he  had  wronged,  robbed 
and  defrauded  us,  and  as  a  matter  of  course  our  presence 
was  hatelul  to  him.  Our  sister's  funeral  was  therefore 
hardly  over  until  he  instituted  a  system  of  persecution 
against  us  with  the  evident  intent  to  drive  us  from  our 
home. 

It  were  a  useless,  unpleasant,  and  unprofitable  task  to 
recount  in  detail  the  various  means  resorted  to  by  him  to 
drive  us  from  that  home  which  of  right  belonged  to  us ; 
suffice  it  to  say  that  he  was  successful — that  our  mother 
was  unable,  or  unwilling,  to  stem  the  tide  which  was  set- 
ting against  us,  and  that  but  a  short  time  elapsed  after  I 
had  seen  my  sister  Kiite  buried  beneath  the  sod  until  I 
was  again  on  my  way  to  the  home  of  my  uncle  and  aunt 
in  the  city  of  New  Orleans.  But  this  time  I  went  not  alone. 
My  brother  Frank — ^the  last  survivor  beside  myself  of  our 
once  happy  circle  of  brothers  and  sisters — ^unable  to  en- 
dure the  annoyance  and  cruelties  which  were  daily  meted 
out  to  him,  accompanied  me,  and  in  due  time  we  reached 
the  city,  where  we  were  kindly  welcomed  and  tenderly  cared 
for  by  our  uncle  and  aunt.  But  we  will  reserve  for  an- 
other chapter  the  incidents  which  attended  our  sojourn 
there. 


THE    LIFE    OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  35 


CHAPTER  lY. 

1 3kn:sT  ask  the  reader  to  imagine  that  a  period  of  three 
years  has  elapsed  since  the  close  of  the  last  chapter. 
Brother  Frank  and  myself  are  still  living  at  uncle  Adam's, 
and  have  become  so  thoroughly  domiciled  there  as  to  re- 
gard it  as  our  home.  During  all  this  time  our  lives  had 
been  one  constant  scene  of  peace — scarcely  a  ripple  had 
occurred  upon  the  surface  of  the  stream  of  time  as  we 
quietly  glided  down  its  surface  toward  eternity,  and  the 
only  strange  circumstance  I  have  to  record  of  those  three 
years  is  the  fact  that,  in  aU  that,  time  we  had  not  once 
heard  from  home.  I  do  not  know  whether  uncle  Adam 
and  aunt  Kittie  had  heard  from  there  or  not :  I  suppose 
they  must  have  done  so  at  some  time  or  other,  but  if  so, 
they  never  said  anything  about  it  to  us.  For  some  time 
we  thought  very  strange  that  mother  did  not  write  to  us, 
but  we  finally  came  to  attribute  it  to  indifference  toward 
ourselves,  and  thus  comparatively  dismissed  the  subject  from 
our  thoughts.  I  have  since  learned  to  believe  that  this 
long  silence  was  brought  about  by  the  machinations  of 
Captain  Lake,  and  was  part  of  a  deliberately  formed  plan 
to  harass  mother  to  an  untimely  grave,  and  thus  get  more 
complete  control  of  the  property  of  which  he  was  steadily 
and  systematically  robbing  us.  Grod  forgive  me  if  I  judge 
him  wrongfully  ;  he  has  grievously  wronged  me  and  mine, 
and  yet  I  would  not  willingly  or  knowingly  charge  him  with 
a  single  crime  of  which  he  is  innocent 

x\bout  three  years  from  the  time  of  our  last  arrival  in 
New  Orleans,  uncle  Adam  one  day  brought  home  with  him 


86  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

a  gentleman  from  the  neighborhood  of  our  old  home ;  one 
who  intimately  knew  all  our  family.  Of  course,  the  most 
eager  inquiries  relative  to  the  family  were  at  once  made. 
Judge  of  my  horror  and  surprise  upon  being  informed  by 
him  that  my  mother  was  dead — had  been  dead  then  about 
a  year.  Great  God !  could  it  be  possible  that  my  monster 
step-father  had  allowed  my  mother  to  pine  away  and  die 
without  informing  her  only  relatives  in  the  United  States — 
her  own  children — of  the  sad  fact  ? 

"  Yes,"  said  my  informant,  "  it  is  all  true.  It  is  now 
just  about  one  year  since  we  followed  your  mother's  remains 
to  the  tomb." 

"  And  where  is  my  step-father  ?"  I  asked. 

"  He  is  still  upon  the  plantation,  and  is  about  to  give  it 
a  new  mistress.  The  last  time  I  was  there  he  was  refit- 
ting and  refurnishing  the  place  for  his  bride,  and  by  this 
time  next  week  they  will  be  married." 

"What!  did  my  mother  make  no  disposition  of  the 
plantation  or  other  property  ?  Did  she  leave  all  our  patri- 
mony, so  carefully  provided  for  us  by  our  father,  to  that 
wretched  man  whose  whole  efforts  since  he  took  charge 
of  us  beside  our  father's  dying  bed,  have  been  directed 
toward  robbing  us  ?" 

"  As  to  that  I  can  not  say.  I  never  heard  of  any  will 
after  the  death  of  your  mother,  and  only  know  that  mat- 
ters, so  far  as  the  property  is  concerned,  appear  to  go  on 
just  as  they  did  in  her  lifetime.  He  still  lives  upon  and 
manages  the  plantation  as  before." 

"  Then  God  help  me,"  I  cried ;  "  I  am  indeed  desolate 
and  alone  in  the  world.  No  father  or  mother — not  a  single 
one  in  whose  veins  runs  a  drop  of  my  blood,  except 
brother  Frank — no  home  —  no  means  of  support — what 
will  become  of  me  ?" 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  37 

"  My  child,"  said  he  gently,  "  do  not  give  way  to  such 
paroxysms  of  grief.  Remember  that  God  helps  those 
who  help  themselves,  and  that  He  has  promised  to  be  the 
God  of  the  orphan,  and  the  Father  of  the  fatherless- 
Doubtless  some  means  of  support  will  yet  be  found  for 
you  and  your  brother." 

But,  despite  his  kindly  efforts  to  cheer  me,  I  refused  to 
be  comforted.  She  who  had  gone,  though  never  treating 
me  with  such  affection  as  parents  generally  evince  for  their 
offspring,  was  still  my  mother,  and  I  sincerely  mourned 
her  loss.  And  then  the  future  looked  very  dark  to  me, 
for,  comparative  child  that  I  was,  I  was  still  able  to 
realize  to  some  extent  our  situation.  Uncle  Adam  and 
aunt  Kittie  were  very  old  and  were  poor;  we  had  neither 
of  us  ever  been  taught  to  work  for  our  living ;  our  educa- 
tion had  been  so  sadly  and  criminally  neglected  by  our 
guardian  and  step-father  that  we  could  scarcely  ever  hope 
to  derive  anything  from  that  source;  the  course  of  that 
man  assured  us  plainly  that  we  had  nothing  to  hope  from 
him ;  and  what  were  we  to  do  ?  As  long  as  uncle  and  aunt 
lived,  we  could  have  a  home  with  them,  but  they  were 
both  very  feeble,  and  could  not  be  expected  to  live  for  a 
great  length  of  time,  and  after  their  death  what  was  to 
become  of  us? 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  w^e  were  but  children, 
and  ignorant  of  law  and  our  own  rights,  and  were  without 
any  one  to  advise  or  assist  us.  Uncle  Adam  did,  I  think, 
make  some  efforts  to  get  at  the  right  in  regard  to  our 
matters,  but  my  step-father  had  laid  his  plans  skillfully,  and 
had  so  hedged  himself  about  with  technicalities  and  the 
forms  of  law  that  it  was  impossible  to  reach  him  except 
by  a  long  and  expensive  litigation.  This  we  could  not 
undertake.     We  were  without  means,  and  uncle  Adam 


38  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

was  too  poor  to  furnish  it  to  us ;  and  thus  villainy  Vvas  for 
the  time  triumphant,  and  the  orphans  robbed  of  their  just 
dues.  But,  thank  God !  it  will  not  always  be  so.  There 
is  a  time  coming  when  all  that  to  us  has  seemed  strange 
and  unnatural  in  this  life  will  be  set  right — when  ample 
justice  will  be  done — when  the  secrets  of  every  heart  will 
be  made  manifest,  and  when  no  amount  of  ingenuity  will 
enable  the  robber  of  the  orphan  and  the  fatherless  to  escape 
the  just  punishment  of  his  deeds. 

After  this  we  continued  to  live  on  with  uncle  and  aunt 
as  before.  They  had  a  fine,  large  garden,  and  our  prin- 
cipal employment  was  to  cultivate  this  and  dispose  of  the 
vegetables.  From  this  source,  and  the  milk  of  our  one 
cow,  we  managed  to  obtain  a  very  comfortable  support  for 
the  entire  family.  It  must  be  understood  that  my  uncle 
had  no  business,  and  that  he  was  too  old  and  feeble  to  do 
much  at  gardening  or  anything  else,  and  hence  the  prin- 
cipal support  of  the  family  devolved  upon  my  brother  and 
myself  He  was  now  about  sixteen,  and  I  was  about  thir- 
teen ;  our  work  was  not  hard,  and  we  managed  to  get 
along  very  well. 

But  the  seasons  passed  away — spring  had  gone — sum- 
mer had  followed  in  its  train,  and  the  gorgeous  Southern 
autumn  had  made  its  appearance,  when  we  found  that  our 
uncle's  lamp  of  life  was  speedily  dying  out.  The  oil 
which  had  so  long  and  steadily  fed  the  flame  was  ex- 
hausted, and  but  a  short  time  had  elapsed  when  we  laid 
him  to  rest  in  "  the  narrow  house  appointed  for  all  the 
living."  Our  venerable  aunt  sincerely  mourned  for  him 
by  whose  side  she  had  so  long  trod  the  rough  paths  of 
life,  and  grief  at  his  loss  preyed  heavily  upon  her  en- 
feebled frame.  She  became  a  helpless  invalid,  and  an  ob- 
ject of  our  constant  care.     It  was  a  terrible  burthen  for 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  39 

two  comparative  children  as  we  were ;  but,  thank  God !  we 
never  faltered  in  the  discharge  of  this  painful  duty. 
Looking  back  through  the  vista  of  years  to  that  period,  I 
can  not  find  a  single  instance  in  which  my  conscience  re- 
proaches me  with  any  dereliction  of  duty  in  the  care  of 
my  aunt. 

But  this  could  not  last  long.  The  scene  was  evidently 
drawing  to  a  close,  and  but  a  few  months  had  passed  since 
the  death  of  uncle  Adam  before  it  became  painfully  evident 
that  she  would  soon  follow  him  to  the  silent  tomb.  At 
length,  one  bright  spring  morning,  when  all  nature  was 
putting  on  her  gayest  robes,  and  the  whole  earth  was 
brightening  with  smiles,  and  joy,  and  sunshine,  we  stood 
by  the  bedside  of  our  aunt  and  beheld  the  Angel  of  Death 
slowly  o'ershadow  her  with  his  dark  wing,  while  her  freed 
spirit  took  its  flight  to  realms  of  immortal  bliss,  there  to 
rejoin  his  by  whose  side  she  had  lived  and  moved  so  long. 
With  the  assistance  of  kind  neighbors  we  laid  her  to  rest 
by  the  side  of  him  who  had  gone  so  short  a  time  before, 
and  leaving  them  to  that  repose  which  shall  never  be 
broken  until  the  day  of  the  last  resurrection,  we  returned, 
with  bowed  heads  and  stricken  hearts,  to  the  lonely  cot- 
tage which  had  so  long  been  our  home. 

We  were  now  alone,  and  without  means,  and  consequently 
helpless.  We  were  old  enough  to  know  that  the  future 
would  not  take  care  of  itself — ^that  something  must  be 
done,  but  just  what  that  something  was  to  be  we  could 
not  tell.  To  increase  our  distress,  we  now  learned  that  the 
place  we  occupied  did  not  belong  to  our  uncle.  He  only 
had  a  lease  of  it  during  his  lifetime,  and  we  were  now  really 
without  a  shelter  for  our  heads,  although  the  owner  of 
the  cottage  kindly  consented  that  we  should  remain  where 
we  were  for  a  short  time  until  we  could  perfect  our  plans 


40  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

for  the  future.  Many  a  long  and  anxious  conversation 
did  we  have  upon  this  subject  before  we  were  able  to  ar- 
rive at  any  definite  conclusion.  Various  expedients  were 
suggested,  but  each  was  in  time  found  to  possess  some 
fatal  defect,  and  one  after  another  they  were  rejected. 
Meantime  the  days  were  passing  away,  and  something 
must  be  done ;  we  could  not  stay  where  we  were,  and  our 
means  were  about  exhausted. 

At  length,  one  day  my  brother  came  to  me  with  a  beam- 
ing countenance. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "I  will  tell  you  what  we  must  do.  I 
can  get  a  situation  in  St.  Mary's  Parish  as  a  gardener,  at 
fair  wages.  This  will  furnish  me  a  living  and  enable  me 
to  help  you  some,  and  you  must  go  to  Mrs.  Armstrong's 
and  assist  in  her  housework." 

"  But  suppose  Mrs.  Armstrong  should  not  want  me  ?" 

"  Oh !  but  she  does.  This  is  no  new  plan  of  mine,  and 
I  have  been  to  see  her,  and  talked  matters  all  over  with 
her.  Her  ladyship  wants  you — I  am  sure  she  will  be 
kind  to  you,  and  I  see  nothing  else  for  us  to  do." 

"But  consider,  Frank,  I  have  scarcely  had  any  ex- 
perience in  doing  housework,  and  I  am  afraid  she  will 
not  be  satisfied  with  me.  If  she  should  not,  and  should 
turn  me  away,  what  then  is  to  be  done  ?" 

"  She  will  be  satisfied  with  you.  I  have  talked  with 
her  about  your  experience ;  know  just  what  she  expects 
and  requires,  and  feel  sure  you  will  just  suit  her." 

"  But  why  can  we  not  go  to  Georgia  and  compel  Cap- 
tain Lake  to  take  care  of  us." 

"  Sister,  I  would  rather  beg,  or  starve  among  strangers, 
than  to  go  to  that  man  who  has  robbed  us  of  our  all,  and 
ask  charity  at  his  hands.  Never  will  I  ask  any  thing  of 
him.     I  will  die  first." 


^'ix^- 


LAYING  PLANS  FOR  THE  FUTURE. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  41 

"  It  would  be  only  justice." 

"  Yes,  but  until  we  can  demand  it  as  an  act  of  justice 
I  am  not  willing  to  go  and  ask  alms  of  bim.  Tbis  plan 
of  mine,  tbougb  unpleasant  in  some  respects,  will  enable 
us  to  earn  an  bonest  living,  and  I  really  see  no  otber 
course  for  us  at  present.  Perbaps  in  tbe  future  sometbing 
tetter  may  turn  up. 

So  it  was  finally  settled.  He  went  witb  me  to  Mrs. 
Armstrong's  bouse  and  introduced  me  to  my  new  mistress. 
Tbe  bouse  was  a  fine,  large  mansion,  situated  in  a  pleasant 
locality,  and  surrounded  witb  trees;  tbe  furniture  was 
bandsome,  ricb  and  costly,  and  every  tbing  reminded  me 
of  tbe  bome  in  wbicb  my  earlier  years  bad  been  passed. 
But,  ab !  bow  different  was  my  situation  from  wbat  it  was 
tbere.  I  tbougbt  I  was  unbappy  at  bome,  but  tbere  I  was 
a  cbild,  and  an  beiress  of  tbe  wealtb  wbicb  surrounded 
me  ;  bere  I  was  a  servant,  laboring  and  toiling  for  my 
daily  bread.  Mrs.  Armstrong  was  always  kind  to  me,  but 
ber  kindness  could  not  comfort  me,  or  cause  me  to  forget 
tbat  I  was  a  mere  servant  in  a  bouse  similar  to  tbat  wbicb 
sbould  bave  been  my  own,  bad  justice  been  done  me. 
Wberever  I  went,  or  wbatever  I  did,  tbis  reflection  was 
ever  present  to  me,  burning  and  branding  itself  into  my 
brain  until  tbe  tbougbt  at  last  sort  of  dazed  me.  I  would 
stand  for  an  bour  at  a  time,  motionless  as  a  statue,  and 
wben  spoken  to  by  any  one,  would  not  bear  or  beed  a 
word  tbat  was  said.     I  seemed  in  a  sort  of  waking  dream. 

Tbis  intense  mental  excitement  at  last  did  its  work,  and 
I  was  prostrated  witb  a  brain-fever.  I  knew  notbing  at 
tbe  time,  and  only  learned  wbat  followed  wben,  eleven 
weeks  after,  I  awoke  as  from  a  long  trance,  and  found 
brotber  Frank  sitting  by  my  bedside.     I  felt  weak,  and 


42  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

when  I  attempted  to  address  him,  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  I  could  hear  the  sound  of  my  own  voice. 

"  Brother,  what  has  happened  ?  Why  am  I  so  weak  ? 
Why  are  you  here,  and  how  long  have  you  been  here  ?" 

"  Sister,"  said  he,  "  it  has  been  eleven  weeks  since  you 
were  taken  down  with  the  fever,  and  I  have  been  with  you 
all  the  time.  You  first  lost  your  reason,  and  the  doctor 
said  you  would  never  recover  it.  Then  you  became  speech- 
less, and  have  never  uttered  a  word  since,  and  everybody 
said  you  would  never  speak  again.  I  thought,  Nin,  I  was 
going  to  lose  you,  but,  thank  God !  you  are  better  now." 

"Eleven  weeks!  It  can  not  be  possible  that  I  have 
been  sick  so  long." 

"Oh  !  yes,  it  is  true.  They  all  thought  you  were  dead 
at  one  time,  and  you  would  have  been  buried  long  ago  if 
I  had  consented  to  give  you  up.  You  were  as  cold  as  ice, 
but  your  cheeks  were  somewhat  flushed,  and  I  could  not 
believe  you  were  dead.  But  it  was  only  when  I  held  a 
lookingglass  to  your  lips,  and  the  moisture  gathered  upon 
it,  that  I  succeeded  in  convincing  them  that  you  were  still 
living.  This  is  all  that  saved  you  from  being  buried  alive. 
But  you  are  too  weak  to  talk  any  more  at  present.  You 
must  lie  still,  and  gain  strength,  and  when  you  are  better 
I  will  tell  you  more." 

He  spoke  the  truth.  Even  this  conversation  had  been 
almost  too  much  for  me  in  my  enfeebled  state,  and,  with  a 
sense  of  inexpressible  weariness,  I  closed  my  eyes  and 
again  slept.  When  I  again  awoke,  it  was  mid-day,  and 
brother  was  not  there,  but  in  his  place  sat  one  of  Mrs. 
Armstrong's  servants.  I  lay  and  tried  to  think,  but  the 
the  effort  was  too  much  for  me,  in  the  enfeebled  and  con- 
fused state  of  my  brain,  and  I  gave  it  up. 

I  have  often  since  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  how  near 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  43 

I  came  to  being  buried  alive,  and  each  time  that  memory 
presents  this  horrid  picture,  does  my  mind  and  heart  go  out 
with  more  of  love  to  that  brother  whose  constancy  and  for- 
titude saved  me  from  such  a  terrible  fate.  And  often,  in  the 
silent  hours  of  the  night,  does  my  heart  well  up  with  grati- 
tude to  the  Giver  of  all  good,  for  bestowing  upon  me  such 
a  faithful  and  trusty  friend.  But,  at  that  time,  I  felt  that 
I  would  almost  as  soon  have  died  as  not.  I  felt  that  I  was 
almost  alone  in  the  world  —  a  useless,  helpless  thing,  a 
mere  waif  upon  the  stream  of  time — and  had  it  not  been 
for  the  love  I  bore  the  brother  who  had  so  tenderly  and 
constantly  watched  over  me  ever  since  poor  Kate's  death, 
I  should  have  wished  to  join  her  in  that  other  world  to 
which  we  are  all  hastening.  But  I  knew  how  it  would 
wring  his  heart  if  his  only  sister  were  to  die;  I  knew  he 
would  then  have  no  one  to  love  or  care  for;  and,  for  his 
sake,  I  prayed  to  God  that  I  might  get  well. 

And  God  heard  my  prayer.  Slowly,  oh!  how  slowly, 
but  surely  and  steadily,  strength  returned  to  my  emaciated 
frame,  and  I  was  at  length  pronounced  out  of  danger.  It 
was  long  and  weary  weeks  before  I  was  able  to  leave  my 
bed,  and  the  weeks  had  grown  into  months  before  they 
would  permit  me  to  go  out  of  doors ;  but  at  length  it  was 
pronounced  safe  by  the  physician,  and  I  was  allowed  to  go 
into  the  yard  attended  by  a  servant.  From  this  time  I 
gained  strength  more  rapidly;  my  excursions  about  the 
grounds  were  longer  and  longer  each  day,  and  at  last  I  was 
pronounced,  by  the  kind  old  physician  who  had  attended 
me  during  the  whole  of  my  sickness,  to  be  convalescent. 

With  the  return  of  my  health  came  an  almost  irresistible 
longing  to  revisit  my  old  home  in  Georgia.  I  wanted  a 
change  of  air  and  scenery ;  I  wanted  to  see  the  dear  old 
place  which  my  father  had  improved ;  I  wanted  to  visit  and 


44  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

water  with  my  tears  the  graves  of  the  dear  ones  in  that  far- 
off  burying-ground.  Brother  Frank  had  gone  back  to  his 
employer  in  St.  Mary's  Parish,  and  I  matured  my  plans  and 
made  my  arrangements  for  going  before  consulting  him, 
for  I  felt  certain  he  would  oppose  me.  But  my  mind  was 
fully  made  up,  and  I  was  resolved  to  go  at  all  hazards. 
I  did  not  suppose  they  wanted  to  see  me  there,  but  they 
could  do  no  more  than  turn  me  out  of  doors,  and  then  I 
could  go  to  some  of  the  neighbors.  Go  I  would,  and  go  I  did. 
When  my  plans  were  fully  matured  and  my  arrange- 
ments made,  I  then  communicated  my  intentions  to  my 
brother.  As  I  had  foreseen,  he  was  very  much  opposed  to 
my  going,  and  vainly  used  every  argument  in  his  power  to 
dissuade  me  from  the  undertaking.  He  spoke  of  my  yet 
feeble  constitution,  of  the  perils  and  difficulties  of  the  jour- 
ney, and  of  every  other  consideration  which  his  love  and 
solicitude  for  my  welfare  could  suggest,  to  induce  me  to 
abandon  the  adventure.  To  all  that  he  could  urge,  how- 
ever, I  was  deaf,  and,  in  my  turn,  plied  him  with  arguments 
to  induce  him  to  accompany  me,  but  with  equal  want  of 
success.  Finding  all  my  efforts  vain,  I  at  last  bid  adieu  to 
Frank  and  the  kind  friends  who  had  done  so  much  for  me 
during  my  illness,  and  set  out  on  my  journey  alone.  In 
due  time,  and  without  any  incidents  worthy  of  note,  I 
finally  reached  Atlanta.  In  my  enfeebled  state,  however, 
the  journey  had  been  almost  too  much  for  me,  and  when  I 
arrived  there  I  looked  like  one  risen  from  the  dead.  I  was 
myself  startled  at  the  haggard  appearance  presented  by  my 
own  face  as  I  gazed  in  a  mirror,  and  was  weary  and  worn 
out  to  the  last  degree,  but  after  resting  a  short  time  in  the 
city  I  thought  I  was  strong  enough  to  undertake  the  jour- 
ney out  to  the  plantation,  and  accordingly  procured  a  con- 
veyance and  went  thither. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  45 

When  I  arrived  near  the  place  I  decided  that  I  would 
not  go  at  once  to  the  house — not  being  certain  of  my  re- 
ception—  but  thought  it  best  to  go  to  the  negro  quarters 
and  learn  what  I  could  of  the  situation  of  affairs.  Accord- 
ingly, I  left  the  conveyance  a  short  distance  from  the  house, 
clambered  over  a  fence,  passed  through  the  orchard,  and 
thus  finally,  by  stealth,  gained  the  cabins  of  the  negroes. 
IIow  strange  it  seemed  thus  to  steal  my  way  into  that  place 
which  should  be  my  own !  I  felt  like  a  guilty  thing,  seek- 
ing to  avoid  the  gaze  of  man  as  I  stole  into  that  inclosure 
and  trod  upon  those  broad  acres  which  of  right  belonged 
to  me,  but  which  I  now  visited  with  fear  and  trembling. 

The  first  one  I  met  was  my  old  nurse,  aunt  Silvie — ^the 
very  one  of  all  others  I  would  have  chosen  should  first 
welcome  me  to  my  old  home.  When  she  caught  sight  of 
me  she  threw  up  both  hands. 

"  De  Lor'  bress  you,  chile !  If  dare  aint  little  Missus 
Annie,  or  am  it  her  ghost  ?" 

"No,  aunt  Silvie,  I  am  no  ghost,  but  really  and  truly 
your  own  little  mistress  Annie." 

"  Bress  you,  chile,  but  you  really  looks  like  a  ghost,  and 
I  most  beliebes  you  is  one.  De  Lor'  bress  us  I  here  I  'se 
done  been  talkin'  to  a  ghost,  sho." 

"  No,  aunt  Silvie,  I  am  not  a  ghost,  but  am  really  flesh 
and  blood :  come  and  feel  of  me." 

"  Den  what  is  de  matter  ?  You  looks  like  you  had  just 
risen  out  ob  de  grabe.  Hab  you  been  dead  and  just  come 
back  to  life  ?  I  'clar',  if  I  do  n't  beliebe  yer  am  a  ghost. 
Come  here,  old  man,  and  see  if  dis  am  Miss  Annie,  shure 
enough,  or  am  it  just  her  ghost  ?  Bress  us !  See  dem 
holler  eyes." 

"  I  tell  you,  aunt  Silvie,  I  am  no  more  nor  less  than  your 


46  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

own  child,  little  Miss  Annie.  I  have  been  very  sick,  and 
have  but  just  recovered." 

"  Recobered !  I  do  n't  see  de  recober.  You  is  sick  as 
you  can  be.  Jess  look  at  dem  thin  ban's,  and  dem  bony 
cheeks,  and  den  say  you  is  recobered.  I  like  to  know 
what  yer  is  recobered." 

By  this  time  uncle  Tom  had  come  up  to  where  we  were 
sitting. 

"  Why,  de  good  Lord-a-massy,  Miss  Annie,  dis  aint  you  ? 
Why,  is  ye  done  been  dead  and  berried,  and  come  ter  life 
again,  or  w'at  de  Lord-a-massy  does  ail  yer  ?" 

"Why,  uncle  Tom,  I  have  been  sick,  and  have  just  got 
well  enough  to  come  here  and  visit  the  graves  of  my  dear 
ones.  Do  you  think  I  will  be  welcome  at  the  mansion  ? 
I  think  I  will  get  entirely  well  if  I  can  be  at  the  old  house 
awhile." 

"Bress  ye,  honey,  yer  is  come  her'  to  be  berried  wid 
der  rest  ob  der  family,  dat  is  what  yer  is." 

"  No,  uncle  Tom,  I  have  come  to  have  aunt  Silvie  nurse 
me  well  again." 

"Well,  de  old  Capt'in  done  heard  ye's  been  berry  sick, 
and  he  t'inks  ye  is  dead.  Yer  can  scare  him  to  death  if 
yer  likes,  for  we  do  n't  any  of  us  like  him — not  an  inch  of 
him.  But  de  missus,  she  am  a  good  'oman,  and  we  all 
likes  her.  She  '11  take  good  care  ob  yer,  if  yer  gets  into 
her  good  graces." 

"  Well,  Tom,  you  go  and  see  Mrs.  Lake ;  tell  her  I  am 
here,  and  if  she  will  give  me  a  welcome,  come  and  let  me 
know." 

"Dat  dis  chile  will  do.  Come,  old  'oman,  make  Miss 
Annie  somet'ing  for  to  eat.    Has  yer  done  forgot  yerself  ?" 

WhOe  he  was  gone  I  had  a  long  talk  with  aunt  Silvie 
about  my  mother,  and  the  cause  and  circumstances  of  her 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  47 

death.  After  Frank  and  I  went  to  New  Orleans,  matters 
had  gone  from  bad  to  worse.  Captain  Lake  had  treated 
her  with  cold  cruelty  and  indifference,  until  at  last  her 
spirit  sunk  under  her  trials,  and  she  had  gone  ^own  to  her 
grave  in  sorrow.  She  had  never  seemed  quite  herself 
after  the  death  of  May  and  Kate,  and  this  rendered  her 
less  able  to  endure  the  ill  treatment  of  her  husband.  She 
had  finally  died — the  doctors  said  of  fever,  but,  the  negroes 
thought,  of  a  broken  heart.  For  more  than  a  week  before 
her  death  she  had  been  entirely  deprived  of  her  speech, 
and  had  therefore  said  nothing  about  her  children  in  her 
last  moments.  About  a  year  after  her  death.  Captain 
Lake  had  married  a  Miss  Blackburn,  and  they  now  had  a 
son  about  three  months  old.  She  also  told  me  the  Cap- 
tain was  now  away  from  home,  and  that  he  seemed  very 
much  attached  to  his  wife  and  child. 

I  was  acquainted  with  the  Blackburns  before  I  left  the 
place,  and  I  knew  Mary  (his  wife)  to  be  a  good,  kind- 
hearted  girl.  Though  much  older  than  I,  she  had  always 
been  very  friendly  toward  me  —  had  always  treated  me 
with  the  utmost  kindness,  and  I  felt  sure  she  would  not  turn 
me  away  from  the  house,  especially  as  she  knew  that  if  I 
had  my  rights,  that  house  and  plantation,  those  broad 
acres  with  their  growing  crops^  those  negroes,  cattle,  horses 
and  other  stock — in  fine,  all  that  was  there,  would  be 
mine.  She  knew  that  it  had  all  belonged  to  my  father ; 
that  Captain  Lake  was  his  executor,  and  my  guardian,  and 
she  must  have  known  that  he  had  betrayed  his  trust  and 
wronged  me.  I  felt  that  she  knew  all  this,  and  yet  she 
was  my  step-father's  wife.  Still,  I  could  not  believe  that 
that  relation  would  obliterate  all  her  sense  of  justice  and 
morality,  and  I  resolved  in  my  own  mind  to  appeal  to  her 
for  justice  against  her  husband.     The  appeal  could  only 


43  ANNIE  nt:lles;  or, 

be  rejected,  and  could  not  make  my  case  much  worse,  and 
I  would  risk  it. 

These  reflections  passed  through  my  mind  very  rapidly, 
and  by  the  time  I  had  arrived  at  this  conclusion  I  saw  Tom 
returning  from  his  interview  with  Mrs.  Lake.  Although  I 
would  not  really  allow  myself  to  doubt  the  result  of  that 
interview,  still  I  could  not  repress  a  feeling  of  anxiety  as 
my  messenger  drew  near.  What  if  he  had  been  unsuc- 
cessful, and  if,  instead  of  the  welcome  I  had  persuaded 
myself  to  hope  for,  he  bore  an  order  for  my  departure  from 
the  place  ?  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  I  was  yet  but 
partially  recovered  from  my  severe  fit  of  sickness,  and 
that  both  mind  and  body  were  reduced  to  a  state  of  almost 
childish  weakness,  and  hence  my  views  of  everything 
were  sadly  distorted  and  awry.  The  reader  must  also  re- 
member that  I  was  fasting,  for  when  I  was  in  the  city  my 
anxiety  to  see  my  home  kept  me  from  eating  anything, 
and  since  I  came  here,  though  aunt  Silvie  had  prepared 
a  very  nice  meal  for  me,  my  agitation  had  been  such  as 
to  prevent  me  from  partaking  of  it.  My  system  was, 
therefore,  in  a  very  poor  condition  to  endure  the  intense 
anxiety  which  oppressed  me,  and  my  agitation  was  so  great 
that  when  I  saw  Tom  coming,  and  knew  that  the  crisis  of 
my  fate  was  at  hand,  my  feelings  overcame  me  and  I  sunk 
to  the  floor.  I  only  heard  aunt  Silvie  say,  "  Dere,  I  tole 
her  she  came  here  to  be  buried  wid  de  rest  ob  de  family, 
and  now  she  is  done  gone  a'ready  widout  seein'  de  grabes 
ob  her  friends."  This  I  heard,  and  then  I  sunk  into  utter 
oblivion  and  unconsciousness. 

When  I  again  opened  my  eyes,  I  was  lying  in  a  com- 
fortable bed,  in  a  well-furnished  room.  A  beautiful,  sweet 
face,  with  goodness  beaming  from  every  lineament,  was 
bending  over  me,  and  a  soft,  low  voice,  which  thrilled  me 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  49 

with  its  kindly  tones,  asked  me  if  I  knew  her.  Yes,  in- 
deed, I  did  know  her.  It  was  Mary  Blackburn,  or  Mrs. 
Charles  Lake,  as  I  should  rather  say.  I  looked  around 
the  room.  With  what  a  thrill  of  satisfaction  did  I  realize 
the  fact  that  I  was  in  the  same  room  I  had  occupied  when 
I  lived  in  that  house  with  my  mother,  now  dead  and  gone. 
Everything  in  the  room  was  the  same  as  when  I  had  last 
seen  it.  There  was  the  same  old-fashioned,  high-post  bed- 
stead, with  its  rich  crimson  canopy ;  the  same  wardrobe 
and  bureau  stood  in  the  corner  of  the  room ;  the  same 
chairs  were  ranged  along  the  wall ;  the  same  carpet  was 
on  the  floor,  and  all  was  just  the  same  as  memory  so  faith- 
fully reproduced  it  to  my  imagination.  Everything,  did  I 
say  ?  No,  one  thing  was  gone,  and  I  sought  in  vain  for 
it — it  was  baby  May's  crib,  with  the  lovely  face  of  its  occu- 
pant ;  and  as  I  looked  in  vain  for  them,  sad  memory  re- 
minded me  in  thunder  tones  of  the  many  changes  which 
had  taken  place  since  I  last  occupied  that  room,  and  it 
was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  my  tears  could  be  re- 
pressed. 

Mrs.  Lake  waited  until  I  had  completed  my  survey  of 
the  room  and  its  furniture,  and  then,  in  her  sweet,  musical 
voice,  replete  in  every  tone  with  kindness,  she  said. 

"  I  have  had  this  room  arranged  for  you,  as  nearly  as  I 
could  remember,  just  as  you  used  to  have  it.  Are  you 
pleased  with  it,  or  would  you  prefer  to  lie  in  some  other 
room  ?" 

"I  thank  you  most  heartily  and  sincerely  for  your  kind- 
ness to  me,"  said  I.  "I  would  rather  be  in  my  own  room 
than  any  other" — ^then  recollecting  myself,  I  hastened  to 
add,  "  or  rather,  what  was  once  my  own  room." 

"  It  is  yours  still,  Annie,"  said  she,  "  it  shall  be  yours 
just  as  long  as  you  choose  to  occupy  it.     We  will  do  all 


50 

in  our  power  to  make  you  happy  just  as  long  as  you 
see  proper  to  stay  with  us  ?  And  then  I  have  a  little 
playfellow  for  you  —  a  baby  whom  you  can  pet  as  you 
used  to  little  May.  I  know  you  are  passionately  fond  of 
children,  but  now  you  must  not  talk  any  more ;  you  must 
go  to  sleep  now,  and  when  you  are  rested  I  will  bring  my 
little  pet  to  you." 

"  Yes,  I  will  try  to  be  calm,  but  I  must  ask  one  or  two 
questions.  Where  is  Captain  Lake  ?  Does  he  know  I 
am  here  ?     And  how  long  have  I  been  here  ?" 

"  My  dear  child,  you  ask  too  many  questions  in  one 
breath.  You  have  been  here  just  two  days.  The  Captain 
is  away  from  home,  was  away  when  you  came,  and  will 
not  be  at  home  for  a  month  to  come.  But  if  he  were  here 
he  would  welcome  you  kindly,  and  would  be  glad  to  see 
you,  I  am  sure.  So  be  quiet  now,  and  take  your  rest,  and 
I  -jvill  go  and  prepare  something  for  you  to  eat." 

With  that  she  stooped  down,  and,  kissing  my  pale,  hollow 
cheek,  left  the  room.  After  she  went  out,  I  lay  still  and 
tried  to  compose  myself  to  sleep,  but  the  effort  was  vain. 
Busy  memory  was  at  work  with  the  past,  and  would  not 
allow  my  worn  out  body  to  rest.  I  thought  over  all  the 
incidents  which  had  transpired  since  I  last  occupied  that 
room;  the  trials  and  sorrows  through  which  I  had  passed; 
the  scenes  of  death  I  had  witnessed ;  the  troop  of  friends 
whom  I  had  seen  fade  and  die  from  around  me  like  autumn 
leaves :  my  uncle  and  aunt,  sister  Kate  and  baby  May — 
all,  all  passed  in  mental  review  before  me,  and  I  could  not 
but  wonder  why  it  was  that  they  were  all  taken  away  and 
I  was  spared.  Doubtless,  in  the  inscrutable  mysteries  of 
the  providence  of  God  there  was  some  good  reason  for  this ; 
but  why  I  should  have  been  selected  from  among  them  all, 
to  endure  this  great  weight  of  bereavement  and  sorrow, 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  51 

was  far  beyond  my  feeble  comprehension.  Another  subject 
of  contemplation  with  me,  and  one  from  which  I  experi- 
enced a  most  bitter  sense  of  anguish,  was  the  awful  con- 
trast between  what  my  situation  was  at  the  present  time, 
and  what  it  was  then,  and  would  be  now,  had  not  the  foul- 
est injustice  lent  its  aid  to  increase  the  evils  which  Provi- 
dence had  seen  fit  to  visit  upon  me.  Then  I  was  in  the 
midst  of  comparative  affluence,  ease  and  comfort — unhappy 
in  some  respects,  it  is  true,  but  still  far  from  miserable ; 
now  I  was  a  wretched  outcast,  without  a  home,  without 
friends,  without  means  of  support,  and  actually  dependent 
upon  the  charities  of  others  for  a  place  in  which  to  lay  my 
miserable  head,  and  for  the  little  sustenance  necessary  to 
keep  life  within  my  enfeebled  frame.  Then  occurred  the 
thought,  most  horrid  of  all :  what  if  I  should  again  be  sick, 
as  I  was  at  Mrs.  Armstrong's  ?  I  was  in  high  fever,  and, 
of  course,  my  mind  was  to  some  extent  disordered,  and 
took  but  a  distorted  view  of  all  subjects,  and  I  could  not 
divest  myself  of  the  impression  that  my  illness  was  about 
to  assume  the  same  terrible  phase  it  then  did — in  which 
event,  without  my  brother's  fraternal  care,  I  should  surely 
die— nay,  perchance,  be  buried  alive,  as  was  so  near  being 
the  case  before.  The  idea  of  death  would  not  have  been, 
of  itself,  so  very  terrible;  but  with  it  was  connected  the 
thought  that  my  brother  would  never  know  of  it.  It  did 
not  occur  to  me  that  in  case  of  serious  illness  those  around 
me  would,  of  course,  notify  him  of  the  fact ;  but  the  dread 
of  being  forever  lost  to  him  was  most  insupportable.  Then 
my  cogitations  assumed  another  form,  and  filled  me  with 
unspeakable  physical  terror.  What  if  I  should  still  be  ill 
when  Captain  Lake  returned,  and  he  should  be  angry  with 
me  for  coming  there,  to  be  a  burden  to  him  ?  His  anger 
would  most  certainly  kill  me.     Or  what  if,  in  his  wrath, 


52  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

he  should,  despite  my  enfeebled  condition,  turn  me  from 
his  house,  to  live  or  die  as  best  I  might.  What  would  be- 
come of  me  then  ? 

Thus  these  vagaries  chased  each  other  through  my  brain 
until  it  almost  went  wild,  and  I  am  sure  I  should  have  be- 
come utterly  distracted  but  for  the  return  of  Mrs.  Lake  to 
the  room.  She  came  in  with  a  sweet  smile  on  her  lip,  and 
a  lovely  little  babe  in  her  arms,  upon  which  she  gazed  with 
all  the  pride  and  affection  which  fills  the  heart  of  a  young 
mother  for  her  first-born. 

"  Here,  Annie,"  said  she,  "  is  my  baby,  my  own  darling 
little  pet ;  do  n't  you  think  he  is  a  perfect  little  cherub  ?" 

"  He  is  certainly  very  beautiful,"  I  said,  gazing  with  de- 
light upon  the  sweet,  innocent  face,  yet  free  from  the  cor- 
roding marks  of  care  and  sorrow.  "You  must  love  him 
dearly." 

"  Oh !  indeed  I  do.  And  you  will  love  him  too,"  she 
continued,  laying  the  laughing  babe  upon  my  arm.  "  Why, 
Annie,  you  look  like  a  young  mother  with  the  babe  in  your 
arms." 

I  looked  in  its  angel  face.  It  was  almost  the  exact  pic- 
ture of  my  darling,  lost,  little  May,  at  its  age.  It  had  the 
same  large,  deep-blue  eyes,  and  dimpled  chin ;  the  contour 
of  the  forehead  was  the  same  as  her's ;  the  same  fat,  dim- 
pled chin  was  her's ;  the  features  were  all  identical  with 
her's,  and  as  my  eyes,  at  a  glance,  took  in  all  these  details, 
I  for  a  moment  half  thought  my  darling  had  come  back  to 
me.  But  in  another  instant  came  the  recollection  that 
I  had  seen  her  grave  and  watered  it  with  my  tears,  and 
that  nothing  short  of  the  power  of  Omnipotence  itself 
could  ever  restore  her  to  my  loving  embrace  again,  and  I 
turned  away  my  head  and  wept  bitterly.  I  could  not 
help  it.     The  recollection  of  the  happiness  I  had  once 


THE    LIFE    OF    A   BOOK   AGENT.  53 

enjoyed  with  her  whom  it  so  nearly  resembled,  and  which 
was  forever  gone  from  my  grasp,  was  too  much  for  me,  and 
I  sobbed  as  though  my  heart  would  break.  Mrs.  Lake 
respected  my  grief,  because  she  divined  its  cause,  and  her 
heart  was  one  to  appreciate  such  emotions.  She  waited 
until  the  violence  of  my  emotion  was  passed,  and  then 
quietly  removing  the  babe,  she  gently  smoothed  my  hair 
and  said : 

"  You  must  now  take  your  rest,  Annie,  and  when  you 
get  stronger  you  shall  have  baby  again ;  and  I  know  you 
will  learn  to  love  him  almost  as  much  as  I  do." 

And  she  was  right.  Day  after  day  my  affection  for  the 
child  and  its  mother  grew  in  strength,  and  at  length  I 
I  learned  to  look  and  long  for  nothing  so  much  as  the 
coming  of  Mary  Lake  with  her  sweet,  innocent  babe.  I 
was  always  very  fond  of  children,  and  especially  loved  a 
pretty  babe  during  the  days  of  infancy — this  was  almost 
the  exact  picture  of  her  whom  I  had  once  loved  more  than 
any  other  human  being  —  what  wonder,  then,  that  my 
heart  should  have  gone  out  towards  this  precious  one  al- 
most, or  quite,  as  it  did  toward  my  own  dear  sister,  sweet 
little  May.  Yes,  I  could  love  him  though,  I  know  he  was 
destined  to  come  between  me  and  my  rights.  Though 
fully  aware  that  he  would  inherit  the  Hamilton  estates — 
that  property  which  should  have  been  mine — there  was  no 
envy  in  my  heart  toward  him.  I  did  not  blame  him  for 
the  crimes  of  his  ancestor,  and  I  loved  him  with  all  the 
fervor  of  my  nature.  Yes,  he  was  the  sunlight  of  my  life, 
during  the  long  and  weary  days,  weeks  and  months  of 
confinement  which  followed  that  relapse.  He  was  my 
only  solace  and  comfort  then. 

Wearily  the  lazy  hours  dragged  themselves  away,  con- 
fined, as  I  was,  a  close  prisoner  to  my  room.     The  hours 


64  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

grew  into  days ;  days  into  weeks,  and  weeks  into  months, 
and  still  languid,  helpless,  I  lay,  longing  once  more  to  be- 
hold the  outer  world,  and  fretting  at  the  close  confinement 
I  was  enduring,  but  utterly  unable  to  leave  my  room. 
Would  I  ever  be  able  to  go  out  again  ?  It  seemed  doubt- 
ful, and,  even  now,  I  feel  that  to  the  kind  and  affectionate 
care  of  Mary  Lake,  and  the  cheering  companionship  of 
her  lovely  babe,  I  am  indebted,  under  the  Giver  of  all,  for 
my  restoration  to  health  and  strength. 

But  I  must  not  lose  sight  of  brother  Frank  during  this 
long  and  gloomy  illness.  I  received  several  letters  from 
him  during  the  period  of  my  confinement  to  my  room,  for 
which  my  heart  was  full  of  gratitude  to  him,  and  which 
were  a  source  of  great  comfort  to  me,  for  he  was  now  my 
all.  He  was  still  at  work  in  St.  Mary's  parish,  and  was 
doing  very  well.  He  often  spoke  of  coming  to  see  me,  but 
the  urgency  of  his  duty  to  his  employer  prevented  it.  Ah  ! 
how  I  would  have  prized  a  visit  from  him,  but  if  this 
could  not  be,  it  was  still  no  little  consolation  to  know  that 
he  thought  of  me. 

The  winter  had  passed  away,  and  it  was  a  bright  morning 
in  spring  when  I  was  able  to  leave  the  house  for  the  first 
time  for  weeks.  With  what  a  sense  of  exhilaration  I 
gazed  upon  all  nature,  clad  in  her  gayest  robes,  and  in- 
haled the  soft,  balmy  air,  and  listened  to  the  music  of  the 
feathered  songsters,  as  they  made  the  air  vocal  with  their 
melody,  I  leave  the  reader  to  imagine.  Ask  the  wretched 
prisoner  who,  after  months  of  weary  confinement  in  his 
solitary  cell,  to  which  the  feeblest  rays  of  the  sunlight  of 
God  but  seldom  penetrate;  where  the  walls  reek  with 
filth  and  dampness,  and  the  atmosphere  is  tainted  with  foul 
and  noisome  smells ;  where  the  only  living  creatures  beside 
himself  are  the  moles,  and  rats,  and  vermin,  with  which 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  55 

his  gloomy  abode  is  thronged ;  who  has  almost  felt  hope 
die  out  within  his  breast,  as  day  after  day  passed  into  eter- 
nity, and  brought  with  it  no  hope  of  release,  is  suddenly  re- 
stored to  the  blessed  sunlight  of  liberty  and  freedom,  what 
his  feelings  are — receive  his  answer,  and  you  can  form 
some  idea  of  my  feelings  at  my  release  from  the  gloomy 
bondage  of  pain  and  weakness  which  I  had  endured.  I 
felt  that  God  had  bestowed  upon  me  a  new  lease  of  life, 
and  my  heart  was  full  of  thankfulness  to  Him  who  had 
thus  far  watched  over,  and  protected  me  all  along  the 
journey  of  life.  There  had  been  times  when,  in  my  heart 
of  hearts,  I  had  wished  that  my  life  might  end — that  the 
voyage  so  full  of  bitterness  and  woe  as  mine  had  been, 
might  be  brought  to  a  close ;  but  with  the  sense  of  return- 
ing health  and  strength,  after  my  prolonged  illness,  came 
new  thoughts,  new  hopes,  and  new  aspirations.  Yes,  I 
would  live,  and  would  try  to  render  my  life  a  source  of 
happiness  to  others,  and  thereby  to  myself — would  en- 
deavor so  to  live  that  when  He  should  see  fit  to  call  me  I 
would  neither  fear  death  as  a  monster,  nor  welcome  him  as 
a  friend,  but  would  receive  him  with  the  calm  resignation 
of  the  Christian  who  obeys  without  reluctance  the  invita- 
tion of  his  Master  to  cease  from  his  labors  on  earth  and 
enter  the  paradise  of  eternal  rest  on  high.  Who  of  my 
readers,  upon  arising  from  a  long  and  painful  confinement 
to  a  sick  bed,  have  not  had  the  same  feelings  and  formed 
the  same  resolutions — to  be  perhaps  kept,  and  perhaps 
broken. 


56 


CHAPTER    V. 

How  grateful  to  the  sense  of  the  patient  who  has  been 
for  weeks,  or  it  may  be  for  months,  confined  to  the  bed  of 
sickness,  consumed  with  fever,  and  racked  with  pain,  is 
the  bahny  air  of  spring,  especially  in  the  latitude  of  cen- 
tral Georgia.  It  seems  to  me  almost  impossible  to  con- 
ceive of  anything  more  delicious,  more  invigorating,  or 
more  health-giving,  than  the  breezes  which,  during  the 
months  of  the  season  aptly  termed  the  youth  of  the  year, 
come  sweeping  up  from  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  retaining  in 
their  journey  of  an  hundred  miles,  that  peculiar  freshness 
imparted  to  them  by  the  salt  water,  and  laden  with  the 
perfume  of  the  magnolia,  the  lilac,  and  the  thousand  other 
fragrant  flowers  for  which  central  Georgia  is  so  justly 
celebrated.  The  system  must  be,  indeed,  sadly  shattered, 
which  does  not  attain  somewhat  of  strength  and  vigor 
under  their  kind  ministrations. 

Thus  it  was  with  me.  The  days  wore  on,  and  with 
each  returning  sun  came  additional  feelings  of  vigor  and 
healthfulness.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  however,  that, 
for  the  greater  part  of  a  year,  with  but  one  brief  interval, 
I  had  been  a  helpless  invalid,  my  system  the  seat  and 
prey  of  disease,  my  vitals  almost  consumed  by  the  burn- 
ing fever  which  had  been  my  constant  attendant,  and  of 
course  it  was  to  be  expected  that  some  time  would  elapse' 
before  a  system  so  reduced  and  disordered  would  be  re- 
stored to  its  normal  condition  as  regards  strength  and 
vigor.  My  improvement,  therefore,  though  sure  and  con- 
stant, was  so  slow  as  at  times  to  excite  considerable  impa- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  57 

tience  in  my  mind.  With  renewed  health  had  come  the 
desire,  ten  times  intensified,  to  visit  the  grave  which  I 
had  traveled  so  far  to  water  with  my  tears,  and  it  may  be 
that  my  anxiety  on  this  subject,  to  some  extent,  retarded 
my  convalescence. 

It  had  been  but  short  time  from  the  day  on  which  I 
had  been  first  permitted  to  visit  the  world  out  doors  and 
inhale  the  fresh  air,  after  my  long  confinement,  when  I  re- 
ceived a  shock  which,  for  a  time,  threatened  to  reduce  me 
to  the  condition  of  an  invalid  again.  It  will  be  remem- 
bered that  in  the  first  interview  between  Mrs.  Lake  and 
myself,  she  told  me  that  her  husband  would  not  be  at 
home  for  a  month.  That  month  grew  into  two,  before  the 
business  which  called  him  from  home  could  be  adjusted 
to  his  satisfaction:  two  months  lengthened  themselves 
into  three,  and  the  business  still  proving  refractory,  the 
whole  winter  was  consumed  before  it  could  finally  be  closed 
up.  Mrs.  Lake  and  I  had,  therefore,  been  alone  all  the 
winter,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  unrestrained  intercourse 
with  her,  I  had  almost  insensibly  forgotten  my  dependent 
and  lonely  situation,  but  it  was  suddenly  recalled  most 
vividly  to  my  recollection. 

A  letter  arrived  from  Captain  Lake,  written  from  a 
town  but  a  short  distance  from  us,  in  which  he  informed 
his  wife  he  should  follow  the  letter,  and  would  be  at  home 
on  the  next  day.  My  agitation,  on  being  informed  of 
this,  by  Mrs.  Lake,  was  extreme  and  very  painful,  and,  for 
a  time  threatened  to  prostrate  me  again.  I  could  not 
divest  my  mind  of  the  reflection  that  I  was  but  a  tres- 
passer on  his  bounty,  and  in  all  probability  a  most  unwel- 
come guest,  though,  in  justice  and  equity,  my  right  there 
was  superior  to  his.  Still  the  power  was  with  him,  and 
my  old  pet  horror  returned  most  vividly  to   my  mind. 


58  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

''  What  if  he  should  drive  me  from  the  house  ?"  In  my 
present  state  of  health  it  would  be  fatal  to  me.  Nay, 
even  an  unkind  or  harsh  word,  an  angry  look  from  him, 
would,  in  my  enfeebled  condition  of  both  mind  and  body, 
be  attended  with  the  most  serious  consequences.  In  vain 
Mrs.  Lake  tried  to  cheer  me  with  the  assurance  that  my 
fears  and  apprehensions  were  utterly  groundless — in  vain 
she  assured  me  that  the  Captain  would  make  me  welcome, 
and  treat  me  with  kindness.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to 
dismiss  from  my  mind  the  recollections  of  the  dislike,  nay, 
almost  hatred,  which  formerly  existed  between  us,  and 
now  that  he  had  the  power  to  still  further  gratify  that 
hatred,  would  he  not  be  likely  to  exercise  it  ?  Besides, 
the  memory  of  the  foul  wrong  he  had  already  done  me 
was  ever  present  to  my  mind.  There  we  were  upon  the 
very  scene  where  that  wrong  had  been  perpetrated,  and 
my  presence  would  be  a  standing  reproach  and  rebuke  to 
him.  What  so  natural  as  that  he  should  ask  to  remove 
this  living  reproof  of  his  infamy  by  sending  me  from  the 
plantation  ? 

These  thoughts  and  apprehensions  so  worked  upon  me 
that  I  retired  to  my  room  and  went  to  bed,  feeling  almost 
certain  in  my  own  mind  that  the  morrow  would  again  see 
me  a  homeless  outcast,  dependent  upon  the  cold  charities 
of  the  world,  and  of  comparative  strangers,  for  the  poor 
boon  of  a  shelter,  and  the  food  necessary  to  sustain  life. 
My  head  ached  violently,  and,  for  a  time,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  was  again  about  to  be  attacked  with  the  dreaded 
fever,  so  high  was  my  state  of  mental  excitement ;  but,  as 
night  came  on  my  mind  became  somewhat  more  com- 
posed, and  at  length  I  sunk  into  a  dreamy,  uneasy  slumber. 

The  next  morning  I  awoke  feeling  very  wretchedly. 
The  excitement  of  the  day  before  had  prostrated  my  en- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  59 

tire  nervous  system  to  a  very  great  extent.  I  had  a  dull, 
nervous  headache,  and  a  sense  of  weariness  and  lassitude 
oppressed  my  entire  frame  to  the  last  degree.  I  felt  so 
badly  that  I  did  not  rise  from  my  bed  at  all,  and,  to  tell 
the  truth,  I  was  not  sorry  that  there  was  a  sufficient  ex- 
cuse for  me  to  retain  my  own  room.  I  dreaded  meeting 
Captain  Lake,  and  was  desirous  of  avoiding  what  I  was 
certain  would  be  a  sad  calamity  to  me  as  long  as  possible, 
never  once  reflecting  that  we  must  meet  sooner  or  later, 
and  that  delay  would  only  injure,  instead  of  improving,  my 
chances.  I  therefore  kept  my  bed,  only  engaging  aunt 
Silvie  (who  had  been  my  constant  nurse  all  through  my 
illness)  to  tell  me  when  the  Captain  came,  and  what  he 
said  in  relation  to  me. 

But  the  morning  hours  dragged  slowly  by,  and  no  aunt 
Silvie  came.  I  was  feverish  with  anxiety,  and  speculated 
all  the  forenoon  upon  the  probable  result  of  the  coming 
interview.  Fancy  still  presented  to  me  the  most  terrible 
consequences  as  likely  to  result  from  that  interview,  but 
having  become  somewhat  accustomed  to  their  contempla- 
tion, I  no  longer  dreaded  them  as  I  did  in  the  shock  caused 
by  the  first  announcement  of  the  Captain's  speedy  return. 
Still  I  could  not  divest  myself  of  a  considerable  degree  of 
uneasiness ;  and  my  intense  anxiety  to  have  it  over  with, 
and  know  my  fate,  became  almost  insupportable  as  hour 
after  hour  passed  away,  and  my  faithful  messenger  came 
not. 

It  was  almost  noon  when  aunt  Silvie  came  to  my  room 
with  the  intelligence  that  the  Captain  had  made  his  ap- 
pearance. How  my  heart  beat  as  I  listened  to  the  few 
words  in  which  she  imparted  this  simple  information. 
How  I  longed,  yet  dreaded,  to  inquire  what  the  Captain 
had  said  about  me,  or  whether  he  had  been  informed  of 


60 

my  presence  in  his  house.  For  some  time  I  hesitated  in 
painful  indecision  as  to  whether  I  should  ask  her  any- 
thing, or  wait  until  my  fate  chose  to  reveal  itself,  but  at 
length  my  anxiety  overmastered  every  other  feeling,  and 
I  addressed  my  sable  nurse  thus : 

"  Well,  aunt  Silvio,  does  the  Captain  know  I  am  here, 
and  what  does  he  say  about  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  Miss  Annie,  he  knows  ye  is  here.  Missus  done 
told  him  when  he  most  first  in  de  house." 

"What  did  he  say  when  she  told  him  ?  Did  he  appear 
to  be  angry  or  displeased  at  my  coming  ?  What  did  he 
say?" 

"  He  did  n't  say  much  ob  any  t'ing.  He  only  say,  '  I 
fought  she  was  dead  long  ago ; '  and  den  missus  tell  him 
you  was  berry  sick,  and  came  berry  near  dyin'." 

"  But  what  else  did  he  say,  Silvie  ?  Tell  me  all  he 
said." 

"  Why,  Miss  Annie,  he  only  said  what  I  'se  done  tole 
you,  and  nuthin'  more." 

"  Did  Mrs.  Lake  tell  him  how  long  I  had  been  here  ?  " 

"Yes,  missus  she  done  tole  him  when  you  came  here, 
and  how  you  was  most  dead  when  you  comed,  and  how 
she  done  tuck  care  ob  you,  and  she  did  n't  tell  him  I  tuck 
most  ob  de  care  ob  ye ;  and  den  he  say,  '  My  dear,  you 
done  ebery  t'ing  just  right;'  and  den  missus  she  look 
kinder  pleased,  and  den  dey  talk  about  sumfin'  else." 

"  Did  he  appear  to  be  angry  when  she  told  him  how 
long  I  had  been  here  ?  " 

"No,  Miss  Annie,  he  just  say  what  I'se  done  tole  you." 

"Did  he  say  any  thing  about  brother  Frank?" 

"Yes,  he  ax  where  he  was,  and  what  he  was  doing;  and 
missus  done  tole  him  all  about  him,  den  he  say  he  was 
glad  he  was  doing  so  well." 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  .    •        61 

"  What  else  did  he  say,  aunt  Silvie  ?" 

"  He  did  n't  say  nothin'  else." 

"  Aunt  Silvie,  do  you  think  he  will  send  me  away,  or 
will  he  let  me  stay  here,  where  I  have  really  more  right 
than  he  has  ?" 

"  No,  Miss  Annie,  I  does  not  t'ink  he  will  send  you 
away.  Missis  would  n't  let  him  do  so  if  he  done  wanted 
to.  I  guess  he  will  not  say  much  to  you  if  you  do  n't  say 
much  to  him." 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Lake  came  into  the  room  and  di- 
rected aunt  Silvie  to  go  and  bring  my  dinner.  As  soon 
as  the  negress  had  fairly  got  out  of  the  room  she  came 
close  to  me  and  kissing  me,  said : 

"  Well,  Annie,  you  have  not  been  up  to  day.  The  Cap- 
tain has  come  and  wishes  to  see  you.  Can  you  get  up 
and  come  into  the  drawing-room  for  a  short  time  ?  He 
will  make  you  welcome,  just  as  I  told  you  he  would." 

"  Please,  Mrs.  Lake,  excuse  me  to-day.  My  head  aches 
very  badly,  and  I  do  not  feel  well  and  strong  enough  to 
meet  the  Captain  to-day.     Indeed  I  am  not  able  to  get  up." 

"Perhaps  your  headache  is  caused  in  part  by  lying  in 
bed  so  long,  and  it  may  relieve  you  to  get  up.  Come, 
Annie,  you  must  come  down  stairs.  The  Captain  wishes 
to  see  you,  and  besides  he  has  brought  home  with  him  a 
handsome  young  widower,  with  whom  he  says  you  must 
get  acquainted.  Who  knows  but  you  may  get  him  for  a 
husband  ?"  said  she  playfully. 

I  was  but  just  turned  of  sixteen,  had  never  been  in  com- 
pany any,  or  seen  much  of  the  world,  and  her  remark 
about  the  handsome  young  widower  brought  the  blood  to 
my  face.  However,  I  insisted  upon  being  excused,  assur- 
ing her  that  my  headache  was  too  severe  to  admit  of  my 
rising.     My  real  reason  for  declining  to  get  up,  however, 


62 

was  because  I  did  not  feel  well  enough,  or  strong  enough, 
to  encounter  the  agitation  of  meeting  the  Captain,  and  be- 
sides I  knew  that  I  looked  like  a  ghost.  Was  it  a  tinge 
of  ordinary  female  vanity  that  led  me  to  avoid,  if  possi- 
ble, meeting  this  handsome  widower  in  my  present 
wretched-looking  condition  ?  At  any  rate,  I  said  to  my- 
self I  could  keep  my  bed,  under  pretense  of  illness,  until 
he  went  away ;  but  to  my  dismay,  Mrs.  Lake  told  me, 
the  next  moment,  that  he  was  going  to  stay  for  several 
days,  and  it  might  be  for  weeks.  Of  course,  all  thought  of 
avoiding  him  had  to  be  given  up,  but  still  I  adhered  to  my 
resolution  not  to  meet  him,  or  the  Captain,  that  day.  Mrs. 
Lake  finally,  seeing  that  it  was  useless  to  urge  the  mat- 
ter, gave  it  up,  and  I  was  left  alone ;  and  right  glad  was 
I  to  be  in  company  of  my  own  thoughts  once  more. 

Though  still  somewhat  in  doubt  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  Captain  Lake  would  treat  me,  I  anticipated  much 
from  the  kindly  feeling  wiiich  I  knew  Mrs.  Lake  had  for 
me,  and  from  her  intercession  in  my  behalf,  and  I  felt 
much  more  hopeful  of  my  future  than  had  been  the  case 
for  a  long  time.  Could  it  be  that  Providence  had  meted 
out  to  me  the  full  measure  of  my  afflictions,  and  that  the 
residue  of  my  life  was  to  be  passed  in  comparative  com- 
fort ?  Time  alone  could  tell ;  but  at  any  rate,  after  the  in- 
terview with  Mrs.  Lake,  just  referred  to,  my  heart  was 
more  at  peace  than  it  had  been  for  years.  That  night  I 
slept  soundly,  and  awoke  the  next  morning  very  much 
refreshed,  and  feeling  much  stronger  than  on  the  day  pre- 
vious. 

It  was  a  lovely  day,  and  I  dressed  myself  and  went 
down  stairs.  I  did  not  see  Captain  Lake  or  the  widower 
till  tea  time,  however.  I  did  not  get  up  in  time  for  break- 
fast, and  immediately  after  the  morning  meal  they  went  to 


THE    LIFE    OF    A   BOOK   AGENT.  63 

the  city  to  transact  some  business,  whence  they  did  not 
return  until  long  after  the  dinner  hour  was  past.  I  was 
in  my  own  room  when  the  bell  rang  for  tea,  and  upon 
going  down  was  greeted  by  the  Captain  with  a  kindness 
which  was  as  unexpected  as  it  was  pleasant  and  grateful 
to  my  feelings.  His  welcome  was  not  merely  cordial,  it 
was  really  kind  and  affectionate,  and  in  the  grateful  sur- 
prise of  the  moment,  I  for  a  short  time  forgot  the  great 
wrong  he  had  done  me,  and  my  heart  warmed  toward  him 
in  spite  of  myself.  How  much  of  his  kindness  was  pro- 
duced by  my  spiritual,  almost  unearthly,  appearance,  how 
much  by  some  motive  he  may  have  had  in  view,  and  how 
much  by  genuine  sympathy  and  affection,  I  leave  each 
reader  to  judge  for  himself  in  the  light  of  this  most  truthful 
history. 

I  was  next  presented  to  Mr.  Giles,  "the  handsome 
young  widower,"  as  Mary  Lake  had  called  him ;  but,  it 
being  almost  my  first  introduction  to  any  one,  I  was  so 
much  embarrassed  that  I  hardly  dared  look  at  him,  or 
even  raise  my  eyes  from  the  floor.  Immediately  after  this 
ceremony  we  took  our  seats  at  the  tea  table,  and  I  then 
had  an  opportunity  to  observe  him  more  closely.  I  did 
not  think  him  very  handsome,  nor  was  he  bad  looking  • 
perhaps  better  looking  than  the  average  of  mankind.  He 
was  of  medium  bight  and  well  proportioned,  neither  too 
stout  nor  too  slender,  his  form  was  erect  and  manly ;  he 
had  auburn  hair,  blue  eyes,  light  complection,  and  his 
countenance  expressed  more  than  ordinary  intelligence. 
Altogether  he  was  one  to  attract  a  second  glance  from  any 
one  who  was  as  susceptible  to  the  effect  of  good  looks  as 
I  was.  He  was  an  excellent  conversationalist,  capable  of 
pleasing   almost   any  society  into  which   he   might   be 

thrown,  and  his  elegant  manners,  and  the  delicate  little  at- 
5 


64  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

tentions  he  paid  me  during  the  meal,  made  a  very  favor- 
able impression  upon  me. 

Before  we  left  the  table,  Caroline,  the  nurse,  came  in  with 
Mrs.  Lake's  baby.  She  had  taken  more  than  usual  pains 
in  attiring  him,  and  the  care  with  which  he  was  dressed, 
added  to  his  natural  loveliness,  made  him  as  sweet  an  ap- 
pearing child  as  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  When  baby  had 
been  sufficiently  admired,  caressed,  and  commented  upon 
to  satisfy  even  as  fond  and  proud  a  mother  as  Mary 
Lake,  Mr.  Giles  went  on  to  speak  of  his  own  babe  a^id 
his  other  children.  He  had  been  married  when  ,ery 
young,  and  had  three  children,  all  boys.  The  youngest 
was  only  about  six  months  old,  and  had  been  depi.ved  of 
a  mother's  care  almost  from  the  time  of  his  birth,  his 
mother  having  died  when  he  was  only  about  a  week  old. 
The  others  were  aged,  respectively,  about  twj  and  a  half 
and  four  years,  and  all  were  sadly  in  need  of  that  care 
and  attention  which  only  a  mother  could  give  them. 

Thus  the  evening  wore  away  in  pleasant  and  interest- 
ing conversation,  interspersed  from  time  to  time  with  mu- 
sic, and  when,  at  its  close,  I  retired  to  my  room,  my  heart 
was  lighter,  and  I  felt  happier  than  I  had  for  many  a  long 
day.  It  was  late,  however,  before  my  eyes  were  closed  in 
sleep.  Mr.  Giles  had  been  quite  attentive  to  me  during 
the  entire  evening,  and,  as  these  were  the  first  attentions 
I  had  ever  received  from  one  of  the  opposite  sex,  my  mind 
was  in  a  perfect  whirl  of  pleasant  excitement.  Already,  in 
imagination,  I  saw  myself  the  wife  of  Eugene  Giles,  the 
mistress  of  his  establishment,  and  the  mother  of  his  boys. 
He  was  in  comfortable  circumstances,  so  far  as  worldly 
property  was  concerned.  I  was  passionately  fond  of  chil- 
dren, and  knew  I  could  love  him  best ;  and,  altogether, 
fancy  might  have  presented  a  much  more  unpleasant  fate 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  65 

to  my  mental  vision.  I  did  not  love  or  dislike  him,  nor 
had  I  any  reason  to  suppose  that  the  vision  presented  to 
me  would  ever  be  fulfilled,  but  it  must  be  remembered  that 
I  was  then  ignorant  of  the  world  and  its  ways,  and  to  my 
simple  ideas  the  attentions  which  every  gentleman  natu- 
rally pays  to  a  lady,  were  indicative  of  love  and  speedy 
marriage.  Let  not  the  reader  blame  my  simplicity  or  laugh 
at  my  ignorance.  I  have  since  learned  to  appreciate  such 
attentions  at  their  true  value. 

From  this  time  I  date  a  new  era  in  my  life.  I  had 
long  been  accustomed  to  regard  myself  as  a  bark  drifting 
helplessly  on  the  ocean  of  life,  with  no  one  to  care  for  me, 
or  to  interest  themselves  in  my  fate,  no  one  who  cared  in  the 
slightest  what  became  of  me,  without  hope,  or  end,  or  aim, 
or  inducement  to  live,  and  had  become  careless  as  to  what 
became  of  myself  Now  all  was  changed.  I  felt  that  I 
was  no  longer  the  helpless  child  of  destiny,  but  was  a 
woman,  with  something  to  live  for,  some  end  to  accom- 
plish ;  and  though  it  was  not  entirely  clear  to  me  what  my 
future  was  to  be,  still  I  was  not  alone  in  the  world,  a 
mere  useless  atom  of  creation.  That  first  evening  spent 
with  Mr.  Giles,  in  Mrs.  Lake's  parlor,  was  to  me  the  birth 
of  a  new  life.  I  went  to  the  tea-table  that  evening  a  care- 
less, aimless,  and  helpless  child ;  I  went  to  my  room  a 
woman  in  spirit,  thought,  and  action,  with  all  a  woman's 
hopes,  fears  and  aspirations  developed  within  my  heart. 

Time  passed  on,  and  Captain  Lake  and  his  wife  contin- 
ued to  treat  me  with  the  utmost  kindness.  No  allusion 
was  made  to  my  leaving  there,  and  in  a  few  weeks  I  came 
to  be  regarded,  and  to  regard  myself,  as  a  member  of  the 
family,  and  never  allowed  myself  to  reflect  what  would  be 
the  end  of  this  season  of  comfort  and  contentment,  if,  in- 
deed, it  should  ever  end  but  with  life.     During  all  this 


66  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

time  my  health  was  constantly  improving;  and  restored 
vigor  of  body,  as  well  as  contentment  of  mind,  with  plenty 
of  air  and  exercise,  were  fast  removing  all  traces  of  my 
late  fearful  and  prolonged  illness.  The  wasted  form  and 
haggard  countenance,  the  hollow,  lusterless  eye,  and  col 
orless  cheek,  and  the  halting,  uncertain  step  of  conva 
lescence  were  rapidly  being  replaced  by  the  rounded  form^ 
the  bounding  step,  and  bloom  and  freshness  of  youth. 

Mr.  Giles,  meantime,  had  been  very  constant  in  his  at- 
tentions to  me.  For  several  days  after  that  first  evening, 
he  had  remained  an  inmate  of  the  Lake  mansion,  during 
which  time  he  constantly  sought  my  society,  and  as  con- 
stantly bestowed  upon  me  the  most  tender  and  delicate 
attentions — attentions  which  I  was  only  too  willing  to  re- 
ceive. Did  I  wish  to  walk  about  the  grounds  ?  His  arm 
was  ever  at  my  service.  If  I  wished  to  ride  out,  it  was 
he  who  ordered  the  carriage  and  drove  the  spirited  horses ; 
he  was  my  constant  attendant  in  every  scheme  of  exer- 
cise and  pleasure,  and  never  wearied  in  caring  for  my 
comfort  and  happiness.  Such  attentions  won  upon  my 
feelings,  and  I  soon  learned  to  look  upon  him  as  some- 
thing more  than  a  friend,  and  to  anticipate  the  fulfillment 
of  the  vision  which  fancy  had  presented  to  me  as  I  lay 
upon  my  couch  after  that  first  evening. 

At  length  he  had  concluded  certain  negotiations,  in 
which  he  was  engaged,  for  the  purchase  of  a  livery  stable 
in  Atlanta,  and  the  time  had  arrived  when  he  must  cease 
to  be  an  inmate  of  the  Lake  mansion,  and  go  to  the  city 
to  take  charge  of  his  property,  and  superintend  the  busi- 
ness in  person.  I  hated  to  see  him  go,  for  I  had  become 
very  much  attached  to  him,  and  though  no  word  had  been 
spoken  between  us,  I  felt  assured  in  my  heart  that  he  loved 
me.     But  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  he  went  away,  and 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  67 

for  some  time  I  saw  but  little  of  him.  He  came  out  oc- 
^dsionally,  however,  to  see  us ;  then  his  visits  grew  more 
and  more  frequent,  until  at  last  I  learned  to  look  for  him 
almost  every  day,  and  he  very  seldom  disappointed  me. 
He  became  a  constant  visitor,  and  never  appeared  (as  I 
really  never  was)  so  happy  as  when  he  was  by  my  side^ 
engaged  in  animated  conversation,  or  reading  to  me  from 
some  interesting  book.  He  frequently  spent  nearly  the 
whole  day  at  the  plantation,  and  a  marriage  between  us  at 
an  early  day  came  to  be  a  subject  of  general  conversation 
among  the  servants,  but  still  he  had  not  spoken. 

One  beautiful  evening,  we  were,  as  usual,  seated  beside 
each  other,  on  a  low  bench,  in  the  garden,  admiring  the 
beauty  of  the  setting  sun.  For  some  time  we  sat  in  si- 
lence. "The  fiery  orb"  had  disappeared  from  view,  twi- 
light was  deepening  around  us,  and  still  neither  spoke  or 
moved.  With  me,  memory  was  busy  with  the  gloomy  past, 
and  I  could  not  help  contrasting  that  fact  with  my  present 
happy  condition.  Suddenly  he  caught  my  hand,  and 
poured  forth  into  my  ear  the  oft-told  tale  of  love,  and 
asked  me  to  be  his  wife.  He  told  me  how  lonely  he  had 
been  since  the  death  of  his  wife — how  his  children  needed 
a  mother's  care — how  desolate  the  world  seemed  to  him, 
and  begged  me  to  cheer  his  loneliness  and  brighten  all  his 
future  by  giving  him  the  right  to  call  me  his.  As  for  his 
ability  to  take  care  of  me,  he  was  in  good  circumstances, 
could  give  me  a  good  home,  and  had  an  abundance  to  main- 
tain me  in  comfort,  and  even  luxury — would  I  consent  ?  I 
was  startled,  and  told  him  I  was  too  young  to  marry ;  that  we 
knew  but  little  of  each  other,  and  ought  to  wait  until  we 
were  better  acquainted ;  that  Captain  Lake  was  my  guar- 
dian, and  I  did  not  know  what  he  would  say  to  our  mar- 
riage.    To  this  he  replied  that  he  had  already  spoken  to 


68  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

the  Captain,  and  had  his  permission  to  make  me  his  wife. 
My  other  reasons,  he  met  with  a  lover's  arguments,  and  a 
lover's  impetuosity,  and  still  implored  me  to  accede  to  his 
wishes.  During  this  scene,  I  was  trying,  as  well  as  I  could, 
under  the  circumstances,  and  amid  the  excitement  which 
I  naturally  felt,  to  analyze  my  feelings  toward  him.  I 
thought  I  did  not  love  him  as  I  ought  before  becoming  his 
wife,  yet  he  was  dearer  to  me  than  any  one  else  of  my  ac- 
quaintance ;  his  earnestness  sort  of  terrified  me,  and  when 
he  said,  "Say,  Annie,  will  you  be  a  mother  to  my  chil- 
dren ?  "  I  tried  to  answer  him,  but  could  not — the  words 
choked  me,  and  I  remained  silent,  but  did  not  withdraw 
my  hand  from  his  grasp.  He  waited  a  short  time  for  an 
answer,  but  I  could  not  speak — and  when  he  said,  "  Shall 
I  take  silence  for  consent  ? "  I  only  looked  up  into  his 
eyes.  He  was  answered ;  and,  clasping  me  in  his  arms,  he 
kissed  me  with  all  a  lover's  fire  and  ardor — the  first  kiss 
I  had  ever  received  from  him. 

And  thus  it  was  settled  that  I  was  to  become  his  wife — 
to  give  up  my  freedom,  my  individuality,  my  all,  into  his 
keeping.  Oh !  could  some  kind  angel  have  lifted,  for  one 
moment,  the  vail  which  shrouded  the  dim  future,  and  have 
shown  me  the  misery,  shame,  and  wretchedness,  which 
were  to  be  the  results  of  that  first  kiss,  methinks  I  would 
sooner  have  leaped  into  an  abyss  of  living  fire,  than  have 
suffered  his  lips  to  come  in  contact  with  mine.  But  in  the 
inscrutable  mysteries  of  God's  providence,  the  future  is 
wisely  hidden  from  our  view,  and  fortunate  is  it  for  us  it  is 
so.  At  the  time,  my  only  thought  was  that  I  had  at  last 
found  rest;  that  the  troubles  and  sorrows  which  had  thus 
far  beset  my  life  were  now  at  an  end ;  that  in  the  future  I 
was  to  know  nothing  but  peace  and  quiet,  and  recur  to  the 
past  only  as  some  horrid  dream  or  nightmare.    How  far 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  69 

my  imagination  was  from  the  reality,  let  future  pages  dis- 
close. 

From  this  time  I  saw  more  of  my  lover  than  ever  before. 
He  was  with  me  almost  constantly,  and  was  unwearied  in 
his  efforts  to  please  me  and  gratify  my  every  wish.  He 
was  exceedingly  solicitous  to  anticipate  and  supply  every 
desire  of  my  heart,  and  never  seemed  so  happy  as  when 
he  was  doing  something  for  me,  or  in  some  way  contribu- 
ting to  my  comfort  and  happiness.  Such  earnest  and 
unwearied  devotion  could  not  fail  to  produce  its  effect,  and, 
in  time,  I  learned  to  love  Eugene  Giles  with  all  the  force  of 
my  nature.  My  disposition  was  naturally  very  affectionate 
and  tender.  It  is  a  necessity  with  me  to  have  something  to 
love,  and  hence,  as  is  the  case  with  all  similar  natures, 
when  my  love  is  once  aroused,  it  absorbs  and  overwhelms 
every  other  feeling  of  my  soul.  Thus  it  was  with  my  feel- 
ings toward  my  betrothed.  I  soon  grew  to  be  lonely  and 
unhappy  in  his  absence,  and  to  sigh  constantly  for  his  re- 
turn ;  but  when  by  his  side,  all  thoughts  of  sorrow  were  for- 
gotten, and  no  one,  it  seemed  to  me,  could  be  happier  than 
I  was. 

I  also  found  great  pleasure  in  the  society  of  his  chil- 
dren, whom  he  often  brought  to  see  me,  frequently  leaving 
them  with  me  the  entire  day.  As  has  already  been  stated^ 
I  am  passionately  fond  of  children,  and  these  were,  I  think, 
the  sweetest  little  boys  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  Besides, 
they  were  the  children  of  him  to  whom  I  had  pledged  my 
hand,  and  whom  I  loved  with  all  the  fervor  and  intensity 
of  which  my  soul  was  capable.  What  wonder  that  I  should 
have  dearly  loved,  and  should  have  been  so  happy  in  their 
society  ? 

But  time  passed,  and  my  lover  began  to  grow  impatient 
to  have  the  day  set  for  our  marriage.     With  the  timidity 


70  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

natural  to  a  young  girl,  I  still  insisted  upon  a  postponement, 
and,  whenever  he  broached  the  subject,  managed  to  put 
him  off  in  some  way,  until  at  length  he  become  too  im- 
portunate to  be  resisted,  and,  with  the  sanction  of  Captain 
Lake,  the  7th  of  September  ensuing,  being  my  seventeenth 
birthday,  was  fixed  for  our  union.  We  were  to  be  mar- 
ried at  the  Episcopal  church  in  Atlanta,  and  it  was  ar- 
ranged that  after  the  wedding  we  were  to  go  to  the  city 
of  New  York,  and  other  places  in  the  North,  and  to  return 
in  about  three  months.  Meantime  our  own  house  was  to 
be  fitted  up  for  our  occupancy,  and  immediately  upon  our 
return  we  were  to  commence  housekeeping  in  Atlanta. 

It  would  no  doubt  be  very  interesting  to  my  lady  read- 
ers— at  any  rate,  men  say  we  have  unbounded  curiosity 
in  such  matters — ^if  I  were  to  describe  the  bustle  and  con- 
fusion which  pervaded  the  Lake  mansion  during  the  few 
weeks  which  intervened  before  my  wedding  day — the  laces, 
satins,  berages,  and  other  goods  which  were  brought  into 
the  house  to  be  made  up  into  wedding-dresses,  traveling- 
dresses,  and  all  other  kinds  of  dresses — ^the  small  army  of 
dress-makers  and  seamstresses  who  were  employed  in  the 
house  to  work  up  all  this  finerj^ ;  but  the  task  would  be  a 
hopeless  one,  and  I  forbear.  Brother  Frank,  too,  was  to 
be  sent  for,  for  I  could  not  think  of  being  married  in  his 
absence,  and  without  his  blessing.  Captain  Lake  kindly 
took  charge  of  this  part  of  the  programme,  and,  accord- 
ingly, informed  Frank  of  the  entire  contemplated  aiTange- 
ment,  and  in  due  time  received  a  reply  from  him,  saying 
he  would  be  present  at  the  wedding,  and  would  then  ac- 
company us  to  New  York  on  his  way  to  California,  whither 
he  had  determined  to  emigrate,  the  California  fever  being 
then  at  its  hight. 

At  length  the  eventful  day  arrived,  and  a  lovelier  day 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  Tl 

never  dawned  upon  this  earth,  than  that  upon  which  I 
became  Mrs.  Eugene  Giles.  There  was  not  a  cloud  to  be 
seen  in  the  skies ;  the  air  was  mild  and  balmy,  and  came 
to  us  in  a  gentle  breeze  laden  with  the  perfume  of  the 
gayest  flowers  of  a  Southern  autumn ;  the  orchards  were 
laden  with  a  bounteous  crop  of  fruit,  now  ripening  in  the 
mellow  sunlight;  the  earth  was  groaning  under  the  bur- 
den of  a  bounteous  crop  of  corn,  cotton,  and  other  pro- 
ducts of  the  sunny  fields  of  the  South ;  and  all  nature 
seemed  swelling  with  thankftdness  to  the  Great  Giver  of 
all  good.  Need  I  say  that  my  heart  partook  of  the  gen- 
eral emotion,  shared  the  great  voice  of  nature,  and  that  I 
was  that  day  the  happiest  of  all  the  happy  throng  I  saw 
around  me  ? 

I  trembled  a  little  when  we  stood  up  before  the  holy 
man  of  God  to  promise  the  words  which  were  to  bind 
us  together  for  a  lifetime,  but  it  was  not  with  fear  or  dread. 
A  deep  sense  of  the  solemnity  of  the  act  we  were  perform- 
ing, a  ^-ivid  appreciation  of  the  immense  responsibilities  I 
was  assuming,  rested  upon  me,  and  caused  a  sort  of  shud- 
dering agitation  lest  I  should  be  unable  to  fully  discharge 
those  responsibilities ;  and  when,  in  answer  to  the  question 
of  the  minister,  I  promised  to  be  a  good  and  faithful  wife 
to  him  who  stood  by  my  side,  to  love  and  honor  him  so 
long  as  we  both  should  live,  in  my  heart  of  hearts  I  rati- 
fied the  solemn  promise,  and  uttered  a  secret  vow  to  my 
Maker  that  it  should  be  kept  in  spirit  as  well  as  in  letter, 
and  that  I  would  be  to  my  husband  all  that  my  obligation 
implied.  If  every  girl,  who  becomes  a  wife,  had  as  full 
an  appreciation  of  the  solemnity  of  the  step  they  take  in 
60  doing  as  I  had ;  if  they  as  fully  realize,  and  as  relig- 
iously observe  the  obligations  imposed  by  the  marriage 
contract  as  I  did,  we  should  have  fewer  divorce  cases,  less 


72  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

unhappy  homes  and  domestic  quarrels,  and  fewer  instances 
of  husbands  abandoning  their  wives  and  children  for  the 
false  and  fleeting  charms  of  licentious  dissipation.  I,  by 
no  means,  excuse  men  for  their  derelictions  in  this  respect, 
but  I  most  firmly  believe  that,  in  many  instances,  they  are 
driven  to  this  course  of  conduct  through  the  fatal  mis- 
takes of  those  who  should  be  their  guardian  angels  in  the 
hour  of  temptation,  but  who,  not  understanding,  or  not 
regarding  the  obligations  of  the  marriage  contract,  drive 
them  from  the  homes,  where  they  should  find  happiness,  to 
the  haunts  of  dissipation,  in  search  of  those  enjoyments 
which  are  elsewhere  denied  to  them.  To  do  this  it  is  not 
necessary  that  the  wife  should  be  cross,  or  quarrelsome, 
or  peevish,  though  these  are,  doubtless,  very  potent  agen- 
cies for  evil.  But  if  she  ceases  to  render  home  attractive, 
and  pleasant,  and  cheerful ;  if  she  ceases  to  practice  on  the 
husband  the  thousand  little  arts  by  which  she  won  the  at- 
tention of  the  lover,  my  word  for  it,  that  wife  will,  when  it  is 
too  late,  and  when  her  husband  has  been  irreclaimably  driven 
from  her  side,  realize  the  full  force  of  the  mistake  she  has 
made.  It  is  true  there  are  men  so  debased  by  nature  and 
early  education  as  to  be  incapable  of  reformation,  but  in 
a  majority  of  instances  the  wife  has  the  remedy  in  her  own 
hands,  and  if  she  fails  to  apply  it,  she  will,  in  time,  awake 
from  her  lethargy  to  find  herself  the  most  miserable  of  hu- 
man beings — a  despised,  neglected  and  forsaken  wife. 

But  to  return  from  this  digression.  The  ceremony  was 
performed,  and  we  returned  to  the  Lake  mansion  for  din- 
ner, after  which  we  were  to  go  to  Atlanta,  for  the  purpose 
of  starting  on  our  wedding  tour.  It  was  a  gay  party 
which  sat  down  to  dinner  that  day  in  Mrs.  Lake's  dining- 
room.  The  dinner  was  excellent ;  every  one  was  in  the 
very  best  of  humor,  and  mirth,  wit  and  merriment,  were  the 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  73 

order  of  the  day,  and  each  one  vied  with  the  others  in  do- 
ing honor  to  the  happy  groom  and  his  bride,  and  to  our 
hospitable  entertainers.  Wine,  too,  lent  its  aid  to  increase 
the  hilarity,  and  for  a  time  the  demon  Care  was  entirely 
banished  from  our  midst.  But  the  dinner  was  at  last 
ended,  the  old  family  carriage  was  at  the  door,  trunks 
were  packed  and  loaded  upon  the  clumsy-looking  old  ve- 
hicle, adieus  were  hastily  spoken,  kisses  and  promises  to 
write  were  exchanged,  and  we  entered  the  carriage  and 
were  rolled  away  in  the  direction  of  Atlanta. 


74  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Our  journey  to  New  York,  though  devoid  of  any  inci- 
dents worthy  of  note,  was  to  me  very  tedious  and  tiresome. 
My  husband  was  unremitting  in  his  attention  to  my  com- 
fort, and  did  all  he  possibly  could  to  relieve  the  tedious- 
ness  of  travel.  But  I  was  unaccustomed  to  journeying, 
and  it  was  a  very  great  relief  to  me  when  we  at  last  found 
ourselves  in  the  city  of  New  York.  We  took  rooms  at  the 
St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  and  retired  very  early,  but  I  was  too 
weary  to  sleep,  and  for  a  long  time  after  my  husband  had 
yielded  to  the  influence  of  the  drowsy  god,  I  lay  awake  and 
contrasted  my  present  situation  with  what  it  was  a  year  and 
a  half  ago.  Then  I  was  a  kitchen  servant  in  the  family  of  a 
Southern  aristocrat;  now  I  was  the  honored  wife  of  a  man  of 
sufficient  wealth  to  maintain  me  in  ease  and  luxury,  and 
who  had  already  shown  that  his  disposition  was  entirely 
commensurate  with  his  ability  to  provide  everything  neces- 
sary for  my  comfort.  Was  I  not  a  happy  woman  ?  Loved, 
petted  and  caressed,  as  I  was,  by  one  whom  I  thought  the 
perfection  of  earthly  nobility;  loving  him  with  all  the 
aflfectlon  with  which  my  soul  was  capable ;  possessed  of 
the  means  to  gratify  every  rational  wish ;  what  more  had  I 
to  desire  ? 

But  there  was  one  thing  for  which  I  would  willingly 
have  bartered  all  I  possessed.  It  will  be  remembered 
tLat  my  father  had  provided,  by  his  will,  for  the  proper  ed- 
ucation of  all  his  children ;  but,  through  the  fraud  and  dis- 
honesty of  our  guardian,  the  benefit  of  this  provision  had 
been  withheld  from  us.    It  must  be  observed  that  at  the 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  75 

South  we  had  not  the  benefit  of  the  Northern  system 
of  free  schools,  by  which  every  one,  however  poor,  is  en- 
abled to  obtain  a  sufficient  education  for  all  the  ordinary 
purposes  of  life ;  and  the  kind  old  uncle  with  whom  my 
youthful  days  had  been  spent,  was  too  poor  to  afford  me 
any  advantages  in  this  respect.  Hence  I  had  grown  up 
with  scarcely  any  education  at  all,  and  I  now  felt  the 
deprivation  more  keenly  than  I  ever  had  before.  I  had 
never  ventured  to  tell  Mr.  Giles  of  my  deplorable  igno- 
rance; though  frequently  intending  to  do  so,  a  sense  of 
shame  had  always  kept  me  quiet,  and  I  had  waited  for  "  a 
more  convenient  season,"  ever  dreading  the  loss  of  his  re- 
spect, and  consequently  of  his  affection,  when  he  should 
learn  how  ignorant  I  was.  But  I  knew,  of  course,  he  must 
find  it  out  some  time ;  and  to  have  been  able  to  avoid  this 
discovery  I  would  have  given  anything  save  only  his  love. 
But  the  discovery  was  even  nearer  than  I  thought. 

To  such  an  extent  had  my  education  been  neglected 
that,  though  I  could  read  a  little,  I  could  not  write  a  single 
word,  not  even  my  own  name.  Frank  could  write  a  little, 
so  that  it  could  be  read  by  any  one  accustomed  to  reading 
writing ;  but  I  did  not  know  the  form  of  the  first  letter. 
Judge,  then,  of  my  dismay  when,  the  next  morning  after 
our  arrival  in  New  York,  my  husband  came  to  me  with 
pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  said : 

"  Come,  little  wife ;  let  me  see  what  a  sweet,  pretty 
letter  you  can  write  to  Captain  and  Mrs.  Lake,  just  to 
inform  them  of  our  safe  arrival  here,  and  how  we  feel." 

"  My  dear  husband,"  said  I,  "  I  do  not  feel  able  to  write 
to-day.  I  have  a  very  severe  headache,  and  wish  you 
would  write  for  me." 

Heaven  forgive  my  duplicity.     I  was  still  afraid  to  tell 


76  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

him  I  could  not  write ;  but  my  brother,  who  happened  to 
be  in  the  room,  came  to  my  assistance.     Said  he : 

"Allow  me  to  speak  for  my  sister.  Eugene,  do  you 
know  anything  of  Annie's  past  life,  or  of  our  history  ?  " 

"Nothing,  except  what  I  have  learned  from  Captain 
Lake.  I  have  never  asked  Annie,  or  any  one  else,  any 
questions." 

"  And  what  has  Captain  Lake  told  you  ?  " 

"He  has  told  me  that  he  was  your  step-father;  that 
you  have  both  lived  with  an  aged  uncle  and  aunt  since 
infancy;  and  that,  since  their  death,  Annie  had  been 
living  in  his  family." 

"Was  that  all  he  told  you?" 

"That  was  about  all." 

"Well,"  said  he,  rising,  and  speaking  excitedly;  "he 
forgot  to  tell  you  the  most  important  part.  He  forgot  to 
tell  you  that  every  dollar  he  calls  his ;  every  dollar  he  is 
worth;  the  plantation  that  he  lives  upon;  the  servants 
who  till  his  lands;  even  the  carriage  which  bore  us  to 
Atlanta :  all  were  our  father's.  That,  by  the  terms  of  our 
father's  will,  he  was  appointed  our  guardian ;  that  he  mar- 
ried our  mother ;  that  he  cheated  us  out  of  our  property, 
and  drove  us  from  home.  Even  the  money  which  our 
father's  will  provided  for  our  education  was,  by  this  man, 
appropriated  to  his  own  use,  and  we  were  left  to  grow  up 
in  ignorance.  Your  wife,  my  sister,  to-day  can  not  write 
her  own  name ;  but  it  is  not  her  fault  that  such  is  the 
case." 

"  But  it  seems  almost  incredible  to  me.  I  have  re- 
garded the  Captain  as  an  honorable  man.  Is  this  all  true 
that  you  have  been  telling  me  ?  " 

"It  is  gospel  truth,  every  word  of  it.  For  that  I 
pledge  my  sacred  word  and  honor." 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  77 

"  How  was  it  about  your  living  with  your  uncle  ?  " 

"  That  is  true.  When  our  guardian,  by  his  cruelty  and 
abuse,  drove  us  from  home,  having  no  other  place  to  go, 
we  went  to  live  with  an  aged  uncle  in  New  Orleans,  who 
was  too  poor  to  send  us  to  school,  and  Captain  Lake  did 
nothing  for  us;  and  thus  we  grew  up  without  any  edu- 
cation." 

"Frank,"  said  my  husband,  "I  thank  you  for  telling 
me  all  this.  It  has  opened  my  eyes  to  some  things  I 
could  never  before  fully  comprehend;  but  now  I  see 
it  all." 

Judge  of  my  feelings  while  this  conversation  was  going 
on.  I  reclined  upon  a  lounge,  my  face  covered  with  my 
hands,  and  trembled  for  the  result  of  this  exposition.  I 
had,  to  a  certain  extent,  deceived  my  husband,  and  I  won- 
dered if  he  would  love  me  less  on  account  of  that  decep- 
tion. But  I  had  not  long  to  wait.  He  came  over  to  the 
lounge  where  I  lay,  gently  drew  my  hands  from  my  face, 
and,  stooping  down,  kissed  my  cheek  — 

"My  poor  Annie,"  said  he;  "how  you  have  been 
wronged.     Why  did  you  not  tell  me  before  ?  " 

"  Oh !  Genie,  I  was  afraid  to  tell  you.  I  was  afraid  of 
losing  your  love  if  you  knew  how  ignorant  I  was." 

"  You  should  have  had  more  confidence  in  your  husband. 
Of  course,  I  could  not  love  you  less  for  that  which  was 
your  misfortune,  and  not  in  any  sense  your  fault." 

"  I  should  have  told  you  some  time,  but  I  did  not  want 
you  to  know  it  now." 

"  Well,  my  Annie,  never  mind  it  now.  I  will  educate 
you  myself,  will  teach  you  to  read,  and  will  set  you  copies 
and  teach  you  to  write ;  and  the  world  will  never  know  of 
your  situation  at  this  time.  And,  Frank,"  said  he,  turning 
to  my  brother,  "  if  you  will  give  up  going  to  the  gold  re- 


78  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

gions  I  will  send  you  to  school,  and  you  shall  have  a  good 
education,  after  which  you  shall  study  a  profession.  What 
say  you  ?" 

"  You  are  very  kind,  indeed,  but  I  do  not  feel  willing  to 
alter  my  plans.  I  have  been  all  my  life  dependent  upon 
some  one  else,  and  now  there  is  a  chance  of  making  myself 
independent,  and  I  do  not  feel  like  neglecting  it." 

"But,  consider,  Frank,  how  much  better  it  will  be  for 
you  to  stay  at  home,  and,  after  obtaining  a  good  education, 
you  will  then  have  an  opportunity  of  rising  to  distinction 
in  some  honorable  profession ;  while,  if  you  go  to  Califor- 
nia, your  education  will  probably  never  be  any  better  than 
it  now  is.  Besides,  think  of  the  dangers  and  hardships 
you  must  encounter  in  that  wild  region — all  of  which  will 
be  avoided  by  the  plan  I  propose.  Think  well  of  what  I 
say,  before  you  decide  to  reject  my  ojQTer." 

"  I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  your  kind  offer,  but  my 
mind  is  made  up.  I  should  like  to  have  a  good  education, 
but  I  can  not  give  up  the  chance  of  becoming  independent. 
As  for  the  dangers  and  hardships  of  which  you  speak,  they 
do  not  dishearten  me  in  the  least,  but  rather  confirm  me 
in  my  determination.     I  am  firmly  resolved  to  go." 

Argument  and  entreaty  were  utterly  unavailing  to  move 
him,  or  to  shake  the  resolution  he  had  formed;  and,  al- 
though Eugene  used  all  the  art  he  was  master  of  to  induce 
him  to  stay,  and  although  I  seconded  the  efforts  of  my 
husband  with  all  the  eloquence  of  affection,  we  found  it 
impossible  to  change  his  determination.  Go  he  would,  and 
go  he  did. 

When  we  finally  gave  up  all  hopes  of  inducing  him  to 
forego  the  journey  he  had  planned,  we  set  ourselves 
earnestly  to  enjoying  the  few  days  we  could  yet  spend  in 
his  society.     We  visited  every  place  of  note  in  the  city, 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  79 

and  saw  and  admired  all  the  works  of  art  which  abound  in 
such  profusion  there.  But  while  we  were  thus  enjoying 
ourselves,  we  did  not  neglect  the  very  important  duty  of 
furnishing  brother  with  everything  which  could  conduce 
to  his  comfort  or  safety  on  his  journey.  I  superintended 
in  person  the  preparation  of  his  outfit,  and,  by  the  aid  of 
some  very  valuable  hints  received  from  an  old  hunter  of 
the  far  West,  who  was  to  be  his  companion  on  the  perilous 
trip,  my  brother  was  at  length  provided  with  everything 
which  care,  ingenuity  and  affection  could  suggest  to  ren- 
der his  journey  pleasant. 

From  New  York  we  went  to  Boston,  and  visited  the  nu- 
merous historic  sites  with  which  that  region  abounds.  We 
went  to  Lexington,  and  stood  upon  the  green  which  was 
moistened  by  the  life-blood  of  the  first  martyrs  of  the  Rev- 
olution ;  we  visited  the  classic  grounds  of  Bunker  Hill,  and 
gazed  with  admiration  upon  the  majestic  shaft  which  com- 
memorates the  sturdy  resistance  made  by  the  untrained 
militia  of  the  colonies  to  the  veterans  of  England;  we 
climbed  the  frowning  bights  of  Dorchester,  and  stood  upon 
the  place  occupied  by  the  artillery  of  Washington,  and 
which  finally  compelled  General  Howe  to  evacuate  the  city; 
and  paid  our  respects  to  every  spot  which  the  incidents  of 
those  times  have  made  dear  to  the  American  heart ;  after 
which  we  began  to  talk  about  returning  to  our  home  in 
Georgia. 

But  before  returning,  I  had  a  duty  to  perform.  My  dear 
father  was  lying  in  the  graveyard  at  Philadelphia,  far  re- 
moved from  all  his  friends,  and  I  had  reason  to  suppose  his 
grave  was  in  a  sadly  neglected  condition.  To  visit  that 
sacred  tomb,  and  see  that  it  was  properly  cared  for,  was 
my  duty;  and,  accordingly,  we  proceeded  by  steamer  from 

Boston  to  Philadelphia,  and  once  more  I  stood  beside  that 
6 


80 

sacred  shrine  of  a  daughter's  affections.  I  found  my 
worst  anticipations  fully  realized.  The  resting-place  of  my 
father's  remains  was  overgrown  with  grass  and  weeds,  and 
the  slab  of  wood  which  was  his  only  monument,  was  so 
defaced  by  time  that  it  was  with  difficulty  we  could  de- 
termine by  the  inscription  thereon  that  we  really  stood  be- 
side his  grave.  I  was  shocked  to  find  it  in  such  a  condi- 
tion, and  at  once  went  to  work  to  remove  these  traces  of 
neglect.  Before  we  left  the  city  the  ground  was  cleared 
of  weeds,  and  beautifully  planted  with  evergreens  and  roses, 
while  a  tall  and  stately  column  of  marble  appropriately 
commemorated  the  virtues  of  my  father  and  the  undying 
affection  of  his  children. 

And  there  I  parted  with  my  only  brother.  The  time 
had  come  when  he  must  proceed  to  New  York  to  join  the 
party  with  which  he  was  going  to  California,  while  my 
destiny  lay  in  the  opposite  direction.  Beside  the  grave 
of  our  departed  father  we  held  our  parting  interview, 
exchanged  our  kindly  wishes  for  each  other's  future  wel- 
fare, and  renewed  our  pledge  of  never-ending  affection, 
after  which  he  wended  his  way  to  the  steamer  in  which 
he  had  taken  passage  for  New  York,  while  I  returned  to 
our  rooms  at  the  hotel.  This  parting  with  the  last  mem- 
ber of  my  family  was  painful  in  the  last  degree,  for  I  felt 
that  I  should  never  see  him  again.  A  journey  to  Califor- 
nia was  then  something  more  than  the  mere  pleasure  trip 
it  has  since  become,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  parting 
was  forever.  Still,  it  was  not  like  former  times  when  I 
had  parted  with  him.  I  was  no  longer  alone  in  the  world, 
but  was  blessed  with  a  kind  and  indulgent  husband,  who 
would  spare  no  pains  to  render  my  lot  a  happy  one. 

The  next  day  we  bid  adieu  to  the  city  of  Brothely  Love, 
and  turned  our  course  toward  the  city  of  Atlanta,  which 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  81 

was  to  be  our  future  home.  Our  journey  thither  was  unat- 
tended with  any  incidents  worthy  of  note,  and  we  finally 
reached  the  Lake  mansion  on  the  fourteenth  day  of  Feb- 
ruary, after  an  absence  of  five  months,  which  had  been,  to 
me,  productive  of  more  real  happiness  than  had  ever  fallen 
to  my  lot  in  the  same  space  of  time.  Each  day  of  our 
absence  had  been  productive  of  some  new  scene  of  plea- 
sure, while  the  kind  and  delicate  attentions  of  my  hus- 
band had  left  me  nothing  to  desire.  I  really  thought  that 
I,  who  had  so  long  been  the  plaything  of  fortune,  had  at 
last  reached  the  haven  of  rest,  and  that  my  future  life 
was  to  be  as  pleasant  as  the  past  had  been  miserable. 
Poor,  blind  mortal  that  I  was.  I  could  not  discern  in  the 
horizon  the  gathering  storm  which  was  to  make  my  future 
life  a  desert  indeed,  and  by  the  side  of  which  the  past 
was  to  be  as  calm  as  a  May  morning.  But  let  us  not  an- 
ticipate. 

Our  reception  at  the  Lake  mansion  was  more  than  cor- 
dial— it  was  kindness  itself  Captain  Lake  and  his  lovely 
wife  met  us  at  the  gate,  and  greeted  us  in  the  most  affec- 
tionate manner,  the  children  shouted  their  welcome  at  the 
tops  of  their  little  voices,  while  the  negroes,  clad  in  their 
holiday  attire,  and  displaying  broad  rows  of  ivory,  stood 
at  a  respectful  distance  and  indulged  in  the  heartiest  ex- 
pressions of  delight  at  the  return  of  the  wanderers.  Aunt 
Silvie,  however,  was  not  satisfied  with  this  formal  display 
of  welcome.  Scarcely  had  Mrs.  Lake  imprinted  her  kiss 
of  welcome  on  my  lips,  when  my  old  nurse  rushed  from 
the  group  of  servants,  clasped  me  in  her  arms,  and  cov- 
ered me  with  kisses,  calling  me  her  child,  her  darling,  and 
invoking  an  endless  torrent  of  blessing  on  my  head.  I 
was  not  a  little  moved  at  this  evidence  of  affection  on  the 
part  of  my  old  nurse.     But  it  was  not  at  all  surprising. 


82 

My  acquaintance  with  these  simple  children  of  nature  has 
taught  me  that  they  are  more  devoted  in  their  attach- 
ments, and  more  intense  in  their  affections,  than  the  more 
refined,  but  more  cold-blooded  white  race.  And  this  de- 
monstration of  aunt  Silvio's  was  but  the  natural  outburst 
of  her  affection  for  one  whom  she  had  reared  through  the 
tender  years  of  infancy  as  her  own  child. 

We  passed  a  very  pleasant  evening  in  the  society  of 
our  friends,  during  which  it  was  arranged  that  we  should 
remain  with  them  as  their  guests  for  a  few  weeks,  until 
our  house  in  the  city  could  be  prepared  for  our  reception, 
when  we  would  go  to  housekeeping  by  ourselves.  And 
thus  passed  the  evening  of  our  return  from  our  wedding 
tour. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  83 


CHAPTER   VII. 

There  are  times  in  all  our  lives  when  the  hours  seem  to 
pass  on  leaden  wings ;  when  our  impatience  to  reach  some 
ardently-desired  event  so  far  outstrips  even  the  marvelous 
speed  of  Time,  as  to  cause  us  to  wonder  that  it  should  move 
so  slowly,  and  to  seek,  but  in  vain,  for  expedients  to  hasten 
its  flight.  Witness  the  lover,  as  he  watches  the  sun  de- 
clining in  the  heavens,  and  giving  place  to  the  "queenly 
orb  of  night"  which  is  to  light  him  to  the  presence  of  his 
mistress ;  or  that  mistress,  as  she  awaits,  in  the  accustomed 
trysting  place,  the  coming  of  him  who  is  dearer  to  her  than 
life  itself,  and  in  whose  absence  the  hours  seem  heavy  in- 
deed. Who  has  not  experienced  this  feeling  of  impatience 
at  some  time  or  other,  and  not  once  only,  but  on  numerous 
occasions? 

Such  were  my  feelings  during  the  four  or  five  weeks 
which  followed  our  return  from  the  North.  It  had  been 
settled  that  we  should  remain  at  the  Lake  mansion  while 
our  house  in  the  city  was  undergoing  some  necessary  re- 
pairs, and  being  refitted  and  refurnished,  when  we  were  to 
go  to  housekeeping.  My  impatience  to  become  the  mis- 
tress of  my  own  establishment  was  so  great  that  it  seemed 
to  me  the  necessary  preparations  would  never  be  completed. 
Almost  daily  I  was  in  the  city,  watching  the  workmen  with 
childish  impatience,  fretting  at  what  seemed  to  me  their 
frightfully  slow  progress,  and  foolishly  but  vainly  wishing 
that  I  could  do  something  to  hasten  the  work.  My  anx- 
iety was  so  intense  as  to  reach  almost  fever  heat,  and  each 
night  I  retired  to  rest,  almost  worn  out  with  impatience  and 


84 

excitement.  I  really  believe  that  if  this  state  of  mental 
emotion  had  continued  much  longer  I  should  have  suc- 
cumbed to.it,  and  been  really  sick;  but  all  things  earthly 
must  have  an  end,  and  so  it  was  with  the  preparation  of 
our  house.  At  length  it  was  decided  that  everything  was 
ready,  and  we  were  to  take  possession  of  the  house  on  the 
following  day;  and  that  night  I  was  perfectly  wild  with 
childish  excitement  and  eager  anticipation,  and  the  next 
morning  I  could  scarcely  wait  for  breakfast  before  starting 
for  our  new  home. 

In  the  fitting  up  and  furnishing  of  our  house  I  found 
fresh  proofs  of  the  Idndness  of  my  husband's  disposition, 
and  of  the  depth  and  sincerity  of  his  love  for  me.  He  had 
superintended  everything  —  I  was  so  much  of  a  child,  and 
so  much  excited,  that  I  was  incapable  of  rendering  much 
assistance — and  everything  was  arranged  in  the  most  con- 
venient, comfortable,  and  even  luxurious  manner.  Beside 
the  magnificent  and  luxurious  style  in  which  the  house  was 
finished,  Eugene  had  purchased,  from  Captain  Lake,  my  old 
servants — Tom,  Silvie,  and  Caroline  —  solely  because  he 
knew  that  it  would  afford  me  satisfaction  to  have  them 
around  me.  Could  any  one  have  done  more  to  gratify  my 
every  wish  than  he  had  done  ? 

I  shall  never  forget  the  first  meal  I  got  in  our  own  house. 
The  Empress  of  the  Russias  could  not  be  prouder  than  I 
was  as  I  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  opposite  my  husband, 
poured  his  tea  for  him,  and  duly  assumed  the  throne  as 
mistress  of  my  own  household.  I  strongly  suspect  that  my 
housekeeping,  at  that  time,  was  not  of  the  very  first  order — 
it  would  be  strange  if  it  were,  considering  the  circum- 
stances of  my  past  history ;  but,  nevertheless,  I  was  the 
mistress  of  our  own  elegant  mansion ;  and,  as  busy  mem- 
ory compared  and  contrasted  the  present  with  the  past,  my 


THE    LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  85 

heart  filled  with  gratitude  toward  him  who  called  me  by 
the  name  of  wife,  and  who  had  wrought  so  great  a  change 
in  my  apparent  destiny.  Need  it  be  added  th^t  my  love 
for  him  was,  if  possible,  intensified  by  these  reflections,  and 
that  I  felt  as  though  the  devotion  of  an  entire  life  would 
be  but  a  small  return  for  all  his  kindness  ? 

Our  children,  too  (for  I  now  called  them  ours),  were  a 
constant  source  of  delight  to  me.  Willie  was  now  &\e 
years  old ;  Frankie  was  past  three,  and  Eddie  was  about 
fourteen  months ;  and  I  do  not  think  I  ever  saw  more  quiet 
or  better  dispositioned  children  than  they  were.  But  my 
especial  pet  and  favorite  was  Eddie.  He  was  then  just  in, 
what  is  to  me,  the  most  interesting  period  of  childhood — 
was  just  beginning  to  lisp  "papa"  and  "mamma,"  and 
learning  to  walk.  Many  an  hour  did  I  spend  in  training 
and  guiding  his  timid,  halting,  staggering  footsteps,  and 
the  exercise  endeared  him  to  me  almost  beyond  descrip- 
tion. He  was  a  most  lovely  child :  he  had  large,  blue  eyes, 
light,  curly  hair,  and  as  fair  an^  clear  a  complexion  as  I 
ever  saw.  In  training  and  devieloping  his  infantile  mind 
and  person,  I  found  ample  employment  of  the  most  pleas- 
ing and  interesting  character.  Ah !  how  happy  I  was  dur- 
ing these  days. 

One  year  and  four  months  passed  away  after  our  mar- 
riage, and  I  had  another  object  to  which  my  affection 
was  directed.  On  the  first  day  of  January,  I  presented 
my  husband  with  a  most  precious  New  Year's  gift ;  a  fine, 
lovely,  healthy  daughter.  She  was  the  very  image  of 
her  father,  and,  it  seemed  to  me,  was  the  handsomest  child 
I  ever  beheld.  Doubtless  all  young  mothers  think  the  same 
of  their  first-born,  but  be  that  as  it  may,  my  cup  of  happiness 
was  now  full,  and  I  could  think  of  nothing  more  to  desire 
or  wish  for  in  this  world.     My  husband  was  all  kindness. 


86  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

and  was,  in  my  eyes,  perfection  itself.  My  home  was  one 
of  the  most  comfortable  and  luxurious  that  the  imagina- 
tion could  conceive,  and  I  was  the  proud  mother  of  the 
loveliest  child  upon  which  the  sun  ever  shone.  Was  not 
my  lot  a  happy  one  ? 

But,  alas!  how  true  it  is  that  earth's  highest  pleasures 
are  but  ephemeral  in  their  existence,  and  that  the  sweetest 
joys  are  shortest  in  their  stay.  It  is  the  common  lot  of 
mankind,  that  at  the  moment  when  we  are  elevated  to  the 
highest  pinnacle  of  happiness,  we  are  nearest  the  brink 
of  the  awful  abyss  of  misery  and  black  despair;  and  my 
experience  has  been  no  exception  to  this  general  rule  of 
our  fallen  humanity.  In  a  few  short  months  I  was  to  be 
prostrated  from  my  throne,  of  happiness  into  a  gulf  of  misery 
more  terrible  than  any  that  in  my  checkered  life  I  had 
been  called  to  endure. 

The  first  terrible  blow,  was  the  loss  of  my  precious  lit- 
tle wild  flower.  The  angel,  whose  company  I  had  fondly 
hoped  to  keep  during  the  residue  of  my  pilgrimage  below, 
was  too  bright  for  earth,  and  was  summoned  by  the  Father 
to  her  home  in  the  skies,  leaving  my  heart  desolate. 
Upon  the  breezes  of  April,  the  angel  of  Death  spread  his 
wing,  and  summoned  my  cherub  to  join  the  bright  throng 
above,  and  the  showers  of  May  brought  their  wealth  of 
flowers  and  strewed  them  upon  the  grave  of  our  darling. 
Her  life  was  brief,  but  it  was  not  bitter ;  she  was  spared 
the  sufferings  and  trials  which  must  inevitably  have  at- 
tended her  more  mature  years;  and  though  my  heart  was 
wrung  with  anguish  as  I  listened  to  the  dull  sound  of  the 
clods  falling  upon  her  little  coffin,  I  can  now  look  up  to 
heaven  and  say,  "  Thy  will  be  done."  My  subsequent 
misfortunes  and  sorrows  have  taught  my  heart  a  lesson  of 
resignation  which  I  did  not  then  feel. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  87 

Upon  my  husband  the  loss  of  our  child  seemed  to  fall, 
if  possible,  with  more  crushing  weight  than  it  did  upon 
myself.  It  is  not  usual  for  the  father  to  experience  the 
same  degree  of  love  and  affection  for  his  offspring  as  the 
mother — it  does  not  seem  so  much  a  part  of  him  as  of  the 
mother,  who  has  given  a  portion  of  her  very  life  to  bring  it 
into  existence,  and  his  heart  does  not,  therefore,  go  out 
toward  the  child  with  the  same  intense  yearning  as  that 
of  the  mother.  A  father  may  give  to  his  children  all  the 
love  of  which  he  is  capable,  but  as  compared  with  the  in- 
tense, selfish  devotion  of  a  mother  toward  her  young,  it 
is,  in  general,  but  feeble.  But  in  the  case  of  our  Mary, 
who  was  so  early  taken  away  from  us,  I  was  surprised  to 
find  that  my  husband  felt  her  loss  even  more  keenly  than 
I  did.  It  hardly  seemed  possible  that  my  grief  could  have 
been  excelled ;  but  while  my  sorrow  was  as  a  tempest  to  my 
soul,  his  was  as  a  perfect  tornado ;  and  I  think  it  was  par- 
tially owing  to  the  intensity  of  his  grief  that  my  husband 
was  led  into  the  commission  of  acts,  soon  to  be  recorded, 
which  gave  fresh  poignancy  to  the  anguish  we  already 
endured. 

What  a  grevious  mistake  it  is — what  a  sin  against  God 
and  humanity — what  worse  than  folly,  when  he  whose 
soul  is  borne  down  by  the  weight  of  sorrow,  turns  for  con- 
solation, to  the  ephemeral  and  blighting  excitement  of  dis- 
sipation ;  to  the  forgetfulness  of  intoxication,  the  enchant- 
ment of  the  gaming  table,  and  the  forced  and  senseless 
mirth  of  bachanalian  revelries.  No  man  ever  did,  or  ever 
will,  secure  immunity  from  sorrow  by  resorting  to  such 
agencies  as  these.  The  poor  wretch  who  resorts  to  these 
means  to  get  rid  of  his  burden  of  sorrow,  may  succeed, 
for  the  moment,  in  diverting  his  mind  from  its  contempla- 
tion, but  the  relief  is  only  temporary,  and  when  reason  is 


88 

restored,  and  the  mind  returns  to  the  contemplation  of  its 
grief,  its  pangs  are  but  intensified  by  the  very  means  used 
to  arrest  them ;  for  to  the  former  sorrow  is  superadded  the 
recollection  of  grevious  wrong  committed  to  get  rid  of  it. 
Nor  is  the  efibrt  to  obtain  even  temporary  relief  at  all 
times  successful.  Numerous  instances  are  recorded  of 
parties  who  have  resorted  to  dissipation  to  drown  sorrow, 
and  who,  in  the  hight  of  a  debauch — perhaps  in  the  midst 
of  some  bachanalian  song,  or  obscene  jest — have  suddenly 
been  arrested,  and  the  words  frozen  upon  their  lips  by  the 
vivid  recollection  of  their  great  sorrow.  Better,  a  thou- 
sand times  better,  endure  with  submissive  meekness  the 
most  painfully  afflictive  dispensations  of  our  Father's  prov- 
idence, and  thus  rob  them,  in  great  part,  of  their  sting, 
than  to  endeavor  to  drive  away  their  memory  by  means, 
which,  in  the  end,  will  only  increase  their  power  in  a  ten- 
fold degree.  But  to  this  philosophy,  and  this  reasoning, 
my  husband,  like  thousands  of  others,  was  a  stranger,  and 
he  fell  into  the,  alas !  too  frequent,  but  ever  delusive  and 
unsuccessful  attempt,  to  drive  away  his  sorrow  by  dissipa- 
tion. 

It  was  but  a  short  time  after  the  funeral  of  our  little 
girl  until  I  began  to  perceive  he  was  becoming  irregular 
in  his  habits.  Before  that  sad  event  he  never  staid  from 
home  later  than  until  about  ten  o'clock  at  night ;  now  I 
often  sat,  and  watched  and  waited  for  him  until  midnight, 
one  o'clock,  two,  and  even  as  late  as  three  o'clock.  Many 
and  many  a  time  have  I  thus  watched  for  him  for  long 
hours  after  the  children  were  asleep,  almost  vainly  striv- 
ing to  crush  back  the  tears  which  would  well  up  from  my 
burdened  heart  to  my  eyes,  but  which  I  sternly  repressed 
in  order  to  prevent  him,  when  he  should  come,  from 
knowing  how  I  had  been  weeping.    Vain  were  all  my 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  S9 

efforts  to  divine,  satisfactorily  to  my  own  mind,  the  reason 
for  this  change  in  him ;  but  still  I  forebore  to  complain, 
and  always  greeted  him  with  a  smile,  a  kiss,  and  all  the 
demonstrations  of  affection  which  had  marked  our  happi- 
est days.  And  still  matters  went  on,  from  bad  to  worse ; 
he  still  became  more  and  more  irregular  in  his  hours,  and 
I  began  to  detect,  in  his  breath,  the  scent  of  the  noxious 
fumes  of  alcoholic  drinks. 

Oh !  the  misery  of  those  nights  of  watching  no  human 
tongue  can  tell.  Night  after  night,  when  the  children 
were  in  bed  and  fast  asleep,  and  the  servants  had  all  retired 
to  rest,  have  I,  the  only  waking  being  about  the  house, 
sat,  and  alone  watched  for  my  wayward  husband,  frequent- 
ly prolonging  my  vigils  until  the  coming  day  would  gild 
the  eastern  skies,  and  still  no  Eugene  would  come.  Of- 
ten, after  passing  the  entire  night  in  watching,  have  I 
gone  down  alone  to  my  cheerless  breakfast,  my  eyes  red 
and  swollen  with  weeping  and  wakefulness,  while  my 
heart  throbbed  with  an  anguish  which  none  can  know, 
save  those  who  have  endured  the  same  fearful  trial.  Have 
you,  my  lady  reader,  ever  endured  such  trials  as  these  ? 
If  not,  may  God,  in  his  mercy,  spare  you  this  great 
agony. 

Never  shall  I  forget  the  first  time  he  came  home  in  a 
state  of  intoxication.  It  was  long  past  the  midnight; 
the  moon,  which  w^as  at  its  full,  was  shining  brightly,  and 
made  it  almost  as  light  as  day,  and  the  stillness  and 
serenity  of  the  air  seemed  enough  to  hush  every  display 
of  human  passion.  I  was  sitting  by  the  window,  gazing 
out  upon  the  brilliancy  of  the  landscape,  which  shone  like 
silver  in  the  radiant  light  of  the  moon,  when  suddenly, 
borne  to  my  ears  upon  the  breeze  of  the  night,  came  a 
succession  of  sounds  which  almost  caused  my  blood  to 


90  ANNIE   NELLES;   OR, 

curdle,  and  my  hair  to  stand  erect  with  horror.  I  do  not 
think  that  ever  in  my  life  have  I  heard  such  frightful 
oaths,  and  such  shocking,  blasphemous  obscenity  as  dis- 
turbed the  quiet  of  that  lovely  night.  As  soon  as  I 
recovered  a  little  from  the  first  shock  of  horror,  I  opened 
the  window,  and,  bending  eagerly  out,  endeavored  to  as- 
certain the  source  from  whence  proceeded  the  frightful 
sounds. 

A  gang  of  half  a  dozen  drunken  men  were  approach- 
ing the  house,  and  in  their  midst,  almost  utterly  helpless 
from' the  extent  of  his  intoxication,  and  supported  by  two 
of  his  companions,  who  were  not  quite  so  far  gone  as  him- 
self, was  the  well-known  form  of  my  husband.  From 
him  and  his  boon  companions  had  proceeded  the  sounds 
which  had  so  thrilled  my  soul  with  terror.  As  I  took  in, 
at  a  glance,  the  situation,  and  the  fell  import  of  the  scene 
before  me  forced  itself  upon  my  comprehension,  I  uttered 
a  cry  as  though  a  dagger  had  pierced  my  heart,  and  rush- 
ing to  the  door,  opened  it  just  in  time  to  receive  the  help- 
less form  of  my  husband  from  his  supporters.  Once 
inside  the  door,  and  missing  their  support,  he  fell  at  full 
length  upon  the  hall  floor,  where  he  lay,  utterly  helpless 
and  unable  to  rise.  It  was  a  task  requiring  all  my 
strength  to  get  him  into  the  room,  undress  him  and  put 
him  to  bed,  but  it  was  at  length  accomplished,  and  I 
seated  myself  at  the  window  to  pass  the  remainder  of  the 
night,  for  sleep  I  could  not.  My  heart  was  too  full  of 
sadness  and  sorrow  to  take  any  rest.  Had  any  one  told 
me,  a  short  year  before,  that  my  husband  would  become  a 
common  drunkard,  I  should  have  scouted  the  idea  as  an 
absurdity,  but  now  there  was  no  avoiding  it.  The  proof 
was  there  before  me,  and  how  I  shuddered  as  I  contem- 
plated what  the  future  might  have  in  store  for  me.   Al- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  91 

ready,  in  fancy,  I  saw  myself  pointed  and  sneered  at  as 
the  wife  of  a  drunkard  and  an  outcast,  while  the  children, 
who  were  as  dear  to  me  as  though  they  had  been  my  own, 
were  devoted  to  a  life  of  wretchedness  and  shame.  The 
agony  that  I  endured,  as  these  thoughts  passed  through 
my  mind,  during  the  remaining  hours  of  that  night,  can 
never  he  told. 

Similar  scenes  to  these  were  of  frequent  occurrence 
from  this  time  forward,  until  at  last  they  became  so  com- 
mon as  to  be  rather  the  rule  than  the  exception.  A  ma- 
jority of  the  nights  my  husband  came  home  more  or  less 
intoxicated,  while  not  unfrequently  he  was  so  far  gone  as 
to  require  assistance  in  getting  home.  During  all  this 
time  he  was  not  unkind  or  abusive  to  me — never  spoke 
angrily  or  harshly  to  me,  but  was  practising  upon  me  a 
species  of  cruelty,  far  more  dreadful  than  any  personal 
violence  could  be. 

I  soon  discovered  that  he  was  burdened  with  some  ter- 
rible secret  which  constantly  weighed  down  his  spirits,  but 
which  he  refused  to  share  with  me.  When  sober,  there 
was  an  air  of  sadness  about  him  which  I  at  first  attrib- 
uted to  remorse  for  the  debaucheries  in  which  he  was  con- 
stantly participating;  but  though  that  doubtless  contributed 
somewhat  to  his  moroseness,  it  was  not  long  till  I  made 
up  my  mind,  from  some  words  which  he  carelessly  let  fall, 
that  there  was  even  something  more  than  this  pressing 
upon  his  spirits.  No  sooner  did  I  arrive  at  this  conclusion 
than,  with  fear  and  trembling,  I  set  to  work  to  find  out 
what  it  was.  True,  I  dreaded  the  discovery,  but  still  I 
felt  that  it  was  necessary  to  know  the  worst,  and  any- 
thing was  better  than  the  suspense  I  was  enduring.  Ac- 
cordingly, one  evening  when,  at  my  earnest  solicitation,  he 
consented  to  stay  at  home  with  me,  I  broached  the  subject. 


92  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

"  My  dear  husband,"  said  I,  "  I  am  certain  you  have 
some  great  trouble  on  your  mind,  and  that  it  is  that 
which  leads  to  all  our  recent  sorrows.     Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  Why,  Annie,  why  do  you  ask  such  questions  ?  What 
if  my  business  does  vex  and  annoy  me  a  little,  is  that 
any  reason  why  you  should  borrow  any  trouble  about  it  ?" 

"  But  I  am  certain  it  is  not  your  business.  There  is 
something  beside  business  weighing  upon  your  mind.  I 
have  seen  it  in  your  eye,  averted  whenever  I  tried  to  look 
you  in  the  face;  in  your  moody,  restless  air;  in  your  half- 
suppressed  sighs,  and  in  a  thousand  other  little  circum- 
stances which  none  but  a  wife  would  observe.  Eugene,  I 
am  your  wife,  and  have  sworn  to  love  and  honor  you,  to 
share  your  joys  and  sorrows  —  why  should  you  conceal 
anything  from  me  ?  If  you  are  in  trouble,  tell  me,  and 
let  me  share  it  with  you.     Will  you  not,  dear  Genie  ?" 

"  Oh !  Annie,  do  not  urge  me.  If  I  have  troubles,  I 
must  bear  them  alone.     They  are  not  for  you  to  share." 

"  Not  for  me  to  share !  Who  should  share  your  troubles, 
if  not  your  own  true  and  loving  wife  ?  Tell  me,  my  hus- 
band, what  it  is  that  so  oppresses  you,  and  my  woman's 
wit  shall  find  some  way  to  relieve  you  of  your  distress." 

"  Annie,  it  would  kill  you  to  know  it,  and  beside  it  is 
entirely  beyond  your  power  to  afford  any  relief  Why 
then  should  I  trouble  you  with  it  ?  No,  the  troubles  which 
oppress  me  I  have  brought  upon  myself,  and  I  will  bear 
them  alone.  No  one,  much  less  you,  my  precious  wife, 
must  suffer  for  my  own  faults." 

"But  this  suspense  is  worse,  and  far  more  painful  to 
me,  than  any  knowledge  could  be.  If  you  have  erred,  tell 
me  all  about  it — be  assured  of  my  foregiveness  before- 
hand, but  do  not  conceal  anything  from  me.  Come,  my 
husband,  tell  me  all,  and  not  only  relieve  my  suspense,  but 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  93 

let  US  devise  means  to  get  rid  of  the  trouble  which  has 
destroyed  and  is  destroying  all  our  happiness.  Tell  me, 
my  husband,  tell  me  all." 

But  all  my  efforts  and  entreaties  were  vain.  To  all  I 
could  say  he  would  only  answer  that  it  would  kill  me,  and 
that  he  must  suffer  alone,  and  I  retired  to  rest  that  night 
with  a  heavier  heart  than  I  had  known  for  a  long  time. 
It  was  impossible  for  me  to  divest  myself  of  the  impres- 
sion that  some  terrible  calamity  was  impending  over  us, 
and  what  it  was  I  could  not  divine.  I  mused  over  it  for 
a  long  time  after  my  husband  was  asleep,  but  could  arrive  at 
no  conclusion  satisfactory  to  myself,  and  was  finally  forced 
to  give  it  up  entirely.  How  much  better  it  would  have 
been  for  all  parties,  had  my  husband  then  yielded  to  my 
entreaties,  and  imparted  his  trouble  to  me,  let  the  sequel 
show.  Oh  1  husbands,  think  not  to  save  your  wives  from 
sorrow  by  endeavoring  to  conceal  from  them  the  troubles 
which  oppress  you.  In  many  instances  their  quick  wit, 
sharpened  by  affection,  will  devise  means  of  avoiding  the 
evil  where  to  you  there  seems  no  chance  of  escape,  while 
concealment  only  leads  them  to  imagine  the  worst,  and 
thus  produces  far  more  pain  to  them  than  a  knowledge  of 
all  the  facts  would.  Beside,  it  is  their  duty,  and  their 
right,  to  know  and  share  all  your  sorrows  and  all  your 
troubles ;  and,  my  word  for  it,  to  the  true  wife  the  path  of 
duty  is  always  the  path  of  pleasure.  What  though  that  path 
be  rough  and  thorny,  still  she  treads  it  not  only  with  satis- 
faction, but  with  joy,  and  finds  her  reward  in  promoting 
the  happiness  of  him  to  whom  she  has  given  her  purest 
love.  As  you  value  that  love,  pain  not  her  gentle  spirit 
by  striving  to  conceal  from  her  that  which  it  is  her  right 
and  her  duty,  as  well  as  desire,  to  know. 

Some  weeks  passed  away  after  this  conversation,  and  my 


94  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

husband  grew  no  better.  His  evenings  were  nearly  all 
spent  away  from  home,  and  not  unfrequently  he  would  be 
gone  the  entire  night,  and  when  he  came  home,  instead  of 
being  the  strong  man  of  vigorous  intellect  that  he  was  when 
I  first  knew  him,  he  would  be  a  mere  infant  in  strength, 
and  but  little  more  than  a  driveling  idiot.  Such  are  the 
effects  of  alcoholic  drinks,  and  such  they  are  known  to  be 
by  every  one.  Why  is  it  that  men,  made  in  the  image  and 
likeness  of  their  Creator,  will  persist  in  the  use  of  that  ter- 
rible poison,  which  reduces  them  below  the  level  of  the 
brute,  and  only  fits  them  for  the  companionship  of  the  lost 
spirits  of  the  bottomless  pit,  and  qualifies  them  for  the  com- 
mission of  any  crime  ? 

One  night  my  husband  was,  as  usual,  away  from  home, 
and  I  was  sitting  alone  in  my  room,  waiting  and  watching 
for  his  coming ;  for,  during  all  this  time,  I  never  once  failed 
to  sit  up  and  wait  for  him  to  come.  I  felt  it  my  duty  to 
do  so ;  and,  beside,  I  thought  if  there  was  any  hope  of  re- 
claiming him,  it  would  be  accomplished  in  that  way,  and 
no  other.  As  I  sat  there,  worn  and  weary  with  my  con- 
stant vigils,  suddenly  the  door-bell  was  rung  with  a  vio- 
lence which  caused  me  to  start  from  my  chair,  with  the 
impression  that  something  terrible  had  happened.  I  was 
sure  it  was  not  my  husband,  for  he  had  a  latch-key,  and 
could  come  in  at  his  pleasure,  and  my  first  thought  was 
that  he  was  dead,  or  had  met  with  some  terrible  accident ; 
and,  while  I  stood  trembling  with  alarm,  and  undecided  what 
to  do,  again  the  terrible  summons  pealed  through  the  house, 
if  possible,  with  more  violence  than  before.  I  did  not  dare 
to  go  to  the  door,  but  called  Tom  and  Silvie,  and  directed 
them  to  see  who  was  there,  and  what  they  wanted  at  this 
time  of  the  night.  Aunt  Silvie  got  up  and  opened  the  door, 
and  found  a  basket  sitting  on  the  step,  but  no  person  was 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  95 

to  be  seen,  nor  was  there  any  clue  as  to  how  it  came  there. 
Tom  went  out  into  the  grounds,  and  made  the  most  diligent 
search  about  the  yard  and  buildings,  but  could  find  no 
traces  of  any  one. 

The  basket  was  brought  into  the  house,  and  when  opened 
we  found  it  to  contain  a  little  girl,  apparently  aged  three 
or  four  weeks.  The  child  was  well  dressed,  and,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  basket,  was  a  note,  well  written,  but  in  a 
hand  entirely  unknown  to  me.     It  ran  thus : 

Mrs.  Giles — Take  this  little  one  and  take  care  of  her. 
Whatever  of  wrong  her  mother  may  have  committed,  she 
at  least  is  innocent,  and  should  not  suffer  for  the  wrong  of 
others.  Some  day  you  will  know  all  about  her  parentage, 
but  not  now.  Her  name  is  Carrie,  and  she  will  take  the 
place  of  the  little  one  you  have  lost.  As  you  value-  your 
happiness  and  peace  of  mind,  take  good  care  of  her. 

It  was  without  signature,  and  I  could  not  imagine  who 
was  its  author,  or  why  it  should  have  been  sent  to  me.  I 
knew  not  what  to  think  or  what  to  do.  How  I  wished  for 
the  presence  of  my  husband,  that  he  might  advise  me  in 
this  emergency.  How  could  I  take  care  of  it  ?  I  already 
had  three  children ;  my  health  was  becoming  delicate  on 
account  of  the  conduct  of  my  husband;  and  it  seemed  im- 
possible for  me  to  add  this  foundling  and  its  care  to  my 
already  heavy  burdens.  And  yet,  the  thought  of  sending 
it  away  was  in  the  last  degree  abhorrent  to  me.  What 
should  be  done  ? 

I  was  recalled  from  these  musings  by  the  child  begin- 
ning to  cry.  It  was  evidently  hungry,  and  I  told  aunt 
Silvie,  who  had  been  standing  silently  by  all  this  time, 
to  get  some  milk  and  feed  it.  She  started  as  if  from  a 
sort  of  trance,  and  turned  to  obey  me,  muttering  as  she 
went  something,  of  which  I  only  heard,  "a  pretty  kittle  of 
7 


96  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

fish,"  "bet  it's  massa's  young  'un,"  and  something  else 
which  I  could  not  catch.  This  gave  a  new  direction  to  my 
thoughts,  by  disclosing  to  me  the  suspicions  which  were 
floating  through  her  mind.  Could  it  be  that  my  husband 
was  false  to  me,  and  that  this  child  was  the  fruit  of  his 
guilty  intrigues  ?  Oh !  no ;  it  could  not  be.  He  had  al- 
ways been  so  kind  and  affectionate  to  me  that  it  was  not 
possible  he  was  deceiving  me  in  this  manner.  With  these 
reflections,  I  tried  to  dismiss  the  subject  from  my  thoughts; 
but  still  my  suspicions  had  been  aroused,  and  I  could  not 
cease  to  think  of  old  Silvie's  muttered  words.  After  the 
child's  hunger  had  been  appeased,  I  took  it  in  my  arms, 
and,  for  the  first  time,  went  to  bed  without  my  husband ; 
but  though  the  infant  sunk  into  a  sound  slumber,  and  did 
not  wake  during  the  entire  night,  my  thoughts,  fears  and 
suspicions  would  not  allow  me  to  sleep.  With  the  first 
faint  streak  of  dawn,  I  arose  and  resumed  my  watching. 

About  six  o'clock  Eugene  came  home,  and,  to  my  sur- 
prise, he  was  entirely  sober.  I  at  once  showed  him  the 
little  foundling,  handed  him  the  note,  and  stood  by  to  watch 
him  while  he  read  it.  I  thought,  if  he  was  guilty,  as  aunt 
Silvie  thought,  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  conceal  it ; 
but  the  closest  scrutiny  of  his  features  failed  to  reveal  any- 
thing to  confirm  those  suspicions.  He  was  evidently  as 
much  surprised  at  the  circumstance  as  I  had  been,  and,  in 
my  own  mind,  I  was  convinced  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
paternity  of  the  child,  and  at  once  acquitted  him  of  the 
wrong  of  which  he  had  been  suspected. 

We  then  discussed  the  disposition  to  be  made  of  the 
child.  He  proposed  sending  it  away  some  where ;  but,  now 
that  I  was  convinced  of  his  innocence,  I  would  not  con- 
sent to  this,  and  insisted  upon  adopting  her  as  our  own. 
To  this  he  finally  consented,  and  it  was  so  decided — he 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  97 

saying,  that  since  we  had  concluded  to  keep  it,  he  was 
glad  it  was  a  girl,  as  we  already  had  three  boys,  and  none 
of  the  other  sex.  We  therefore  bestowed  upon  her  the 
same  care  and  attention  which  we  gave  our  own,  and,  in 
time,  she  grew  to  be  sufficiently  sweet  and  interesting  to 
more  than  repay  us  for  all  our  trouble.  But  still  the  secret 
of  her  birth  was  wrapped  in  profound  mystery,  and  caused 
me  many  an  hour  of  anxious  thought.  It  is  true,  my  hus- 
band was  no  longer  suspected  of  any  wrong  in  connection 
with  it;  but  my  inability  to  fathom  the  mystery  was  a 
source  of  constanf  uneasiness  to  me.  It  did  not  then  oc- 
cur to  me  that  he  might  be  guilty  after  all,  and  that  his 
surprise  was  but  simulated  to  convince  me  of  his  inno- 
cence. I  did  not  then  know  him  as  well  as  I  have  since 
learned  to  do. 

I  tried  by  all  means  in  my  power  to  stimulate  the  in- 
terest of  my  husband  in  the  new  accession  to  our  house- 
hold, hoping  that  it  would  have  some  influence  to  wean 
him  from  the  evil  ways  into  which  he  had  fallen,  and,  for 
a  few  days,  flattered  myself  with  the  hope  that  my  efforts 
were  going  to  prove  successful.  For  some  days  after  the 
advent  of  the  little  foundling,  he  spent  his  evenings  at 
home ;  but  just  as  I  began  to  flatter  myself  that  he  was 
reclaimed,  he  suddenly  relapsed,  and  was,  in  a  very  short 
time,  just  as  bad  as  ever.  Again  were  repeated  the  scenes 
of  lonely  nights,  of  weary  watching,  of  helpless  intoxica- 
tion, and  beastly  debauchery,  amid  which  my  time  had  been 
passed  almost  constantly  since  the  death  of  our  little  girl ; 
and  again  I  drank  to  its  dregs  the  cup  of  bitterness  ever 
presented  to  the  lips  of  a  neglected  wife.  But  this  could 
not  last  always,  and  finally  the  end  came. 

One  evening,  a  few  weeks  after  the  events  I  have  just 
related,  my  husband  came  home  very  early — about  seven 


98  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

o'clock,  I  think  it  was — and  was  evidently  very  much  de- 
pressed in  spirit.  He  came  in  without  a  word,  and,  taking 
his  seat,  sat  for  some  time  without  speaking.  At  length 
the  silence  grew  irksome  to  me,  and  I  went  up  to  him, 
and,  putting  my  arm  around  his  neck,  said : 

"Eugene,  you  must  tell  me  what  is  the  matter  with 
you.  For  a  long  time  you  have  not  been  yourself,  nor 
have  you  confided  to  me  any  part  of  your  troubles.  I 
have  borne  it  until  my  heart  is  well  nigh  breaking,  and 
now  I  feel  that  I  can  not  stand  it  any  longer.  Do  tell  me, 
I  implore  you,  what  it  is  that  troubles  you." 

He  made  no  reply,  but  laid  his  head  upon  my  breast  and 
wept  like  a  child.  I  said  nothing,  but  let  his  head  rest 
upon  my  bosom  until  his  grief  had  somewhat  subsided. 
Indeed,  I  was  too  much  alarmed  and  astounded  to  say  any 
thing.  I  had  never  seen  any  man,  and  much  less  him, 
moved  as  he  was  by  my  simple  question,  and  knew  not 
what  to  say  or  do.  When  his  sobs  had  somewhat  sub- 
sided, I  kissed  his  brow,  and  again  urged  him,  by  all  the 
endearing  words  at  my  command,  to  impart  his  grief  to 
me.     Without  looking  up,  he  said : 

"  Annie,  I  can  not  tell  you  all.  I  am  ashamed  to  confess 
it  all  to  myself,  much  less  to  you.  Oh !  if  you  knew  all 
that  I  have  done,  the  depths  to  which  I  have  descended, 
you  would  fly  from  me  and  never  see  me  again." 

"  Eugene,  you  wrong  me.  I  can  forgive  anything  for 
your  sake — can  endure  anything  except  this  conceal- 
ment; so  tell  me  the  worst,  and  see  how  bravely  I  can 
bear  it." 

"  Oh !  Annie,  you  are  so  kind,  so  affectionate,  and  so 
dear  to  me,  that  I  would  gladly  spare  you  this  trial  if  I 
could.  But  I  can  not  conceal  it  any  longer.  Annie,  I 
have  been  gambling  for  a  long  time,  and  am  a  ruined  man. 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  99 

At  first  I  was  successful,  and  became  infatuated  with  the 
love  of  play,  and,  when  fortune  turned  against  me,  I  kept 
on,  in  the  hope  of  retrieving  my  position ;  and  so  it  has  gone 
on,  until  I  have  lost  all  and  my  wife  and  children  will  soon 
be  homeless.  This  house,  furniture,  servants,  my  livery- 
stable  and  all,  will  not  pay  my  debts,  and  I  may  even  have 
to  go  to  jail.     What  will  become  of  you  and  the  babies?" 

I  was  struck  speechless  by  this  revelation.  In  all  my 
imaginings  as  to  the  cause  of  his  irregularities,  it  had  never 
occurred  to  me  that  this  might  be  the  case.  The  worst 
that  had  suggested  itself  to  my  mind  was,  that  he  had 
been  unfortunate  in  business,  and  was  compelled  to  sacri- 
fice his  property ;  and  had  this  been  so,  had  he  lost  every 
dollar  he  was  worth,  but  lost  it  honorably,  I  could  have 
borne  it  all  without  a  murmur.  Oh !  yes,  I  could  have 
endured  the  very  lowest  depths  of  poverty  with  him,  with- 
out complaint,  had  he  been  reduced  to  those  depths  with- 
out dishonor  on  his  part,  and  simply  by  the  frowns  of 
fortune;  but  to  know  that  he  had  brought  it  all  upon 
himself  and  us  by  the  contemptible,  soul-blighting,  and 
God-dishonoring  vice  of  gambling,  so  completely  over- 
whelmed me  with  astonishment  and  horror  that,  for  a  time, 
I  was  incapable  of  uttering  a  single  word,  or,  indeed, 
scarcely  comprehending  it. 

How  any  man,  gifted  with  sense  and  reason,  can  so  far 
debase  himself  as  to  engage  in  the  pernicious  vice  of  gam- 
bling— that  pursuit  in  which  all  the  better  and  finer  feel- 
ings of  human  nature  are  swallowed  up  in  the  fierce  and 
unholy  excitement  of  the  gaming-table,  and  in  which  the 
demon  Avarice  takes  entire  possession  of  a  man,  to  the 
exclusion  of  everything  noble  or  praiseworthy;  that  pur- 
suit Avhich  is  the  fruitful  parent  of  intemperance,  licen- 
tiousness, and  every  other  vice  to  which  frail  humanity  is 


100 


ANNIE    NELLES  ;    OR, 


subject;  that  pursuit  which  almost  inevitably  accompanies 
and  leads  to  theft,  highway  robbery,  and  even  murder; 
which,  in  short,  transforms  men  into  demons — is  beyond 
my  power  to  comprehend.  Had  I  a  son,  I  would  a  thou- 
sand times  rather  see  him  inclosed  in  his  coffin,  than  to 
see  him  seated  at  the  gaming-table :  the  first  would  only 
be  the  death  of  the  mortal  body,  while  the  last  would  be 
neither  more  nor  less  than  the  eternal  death  of  an  immor- 
tal soul.  Oh !  young  man,  just  starting  upon  the  troublous 
voyage  of  life,  shun  the  soul-killing  excitement  of  the 
gaming-table  as  you  would  the  bite  of  an  adder.  The 
moment  in  which  you  yield  to  its  seductive  influences, 
that  moment  you  may  abandon  all  hope  for  the  future,  and 
"Lost"  will  be  the  epitaph  you  write  upon  your  own 
tombstone.     But  to  return  to  my  story. 

As  I  have  said,  I  was  incapable  of  uttering  a  word,  but 
sat  stunned  and  speechless  by  the  terrible  revelation  just 
made.  After  the  silence  had  continued  some  time,  my 
husband  raised  his  head  and  looked  timidly  in  my  face. 
He  started  at  the  expression  he  saw  there. 

"  Why,  Annie,"  said  he,  "  how  pale  you  look,  and  so 
dreadful.  Do  not  look  with  that  fixed  and  stony  stare. 
Reproach  me ;  curse  me,  if  you  will  —  I  deserve  it  all  — 
but  do  not  look  so  terribly  upon  me." 

"Oh!  Eugene,"  I  said,  bursting  into  tears,  "why  have 
you  done  this  ?     Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"Annie,  I  have  nothing  to  tell,  nothing  to  say  in 
excuse  for  myself.  You  know  that,  in  my  business,  I  am 
constantly  thrown  in  company  with  what  are  called  '  fast 
men ; '  and  that  it  is  my  disposition  to  be  gay  and  lively. 
Well,  at  first  —  they  began  on  me  a  long  time  ago  —  they 

used  to  say :  '  Come,  Eugene ;  go  with  us  to 's ; '  but 

I  would  refuse,  telling  them  I  must  go  home  to  my  wife 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  101 

and  babies;  ^ my  wife  will  sit  up  until  I  come.'  'Well, 
Eugene,'  they  would  say,  'go  and  get  a  drink  with  us 
first.'  Thus  urged,  I  would  yield.  One  drink  would  be 
taken ;  then  another  and  another,  until  I  would  forget  all 
about  wife  and  children.  But  it  was  a  long  time  before 
they  could  get  me  to  take  a  card.  At  last,  one  night, 
after  I  had  been  drinking  pretty  freely,  it  was  proposed 
that  we  should  have  a  quiet  game  of  cards  for  fun.  To 
this  I  consented,  and  we  began  to  play.  Finally,  my 
partner  proposed  a  bet  of  five  dollars  on  a  hand  he  then 
held.  I  refused  to  have  any  part  in  it;  but  he  and 
another  man  bet,  and  my  partner  won.  They  then  laughed 
at  me  for  being  so  fearful  of  a  paltry  bet;  and  thus,  by 
ridicule  and  entreaty,  and  by  plying  me  with  liquor,  they 
at  last  got  me  to  betting.  For  some  time  I  won  almost 
constantly,  and  then  I  began  to  lose.  Maddened  by  my 
losses,  and  by  the  liquid  poison  in  my  system,  and  mud- 
dling my  brain,  I  kept  on  until  at  last  I  awoke  to  find 
myself  a  ruined  man.  That,  Annie,  is  the  whole  story." 
It  was  the  old,  old  story.  It  was  but  a  repetition  of 
the  arts  by  which  those  fiends  insatiate — those  sharks, 
who  prey  upon  the  follies  and  weaknesses  of  their  fellow- 
men,  only  to  rob  them  of  wealth,  honor,  and  all  that 
makes  life  desirable — always  ensnare  their  victims.  If 
there  is  one  being  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  who  is  more 
to  be  despised  than  another,  surely  that  being  is  the  pro- 
fessional gambler ;  if  one  sinner  deserves  a  higher  meed 
of  punishment  than  any  other,  it  is  that  creature  who, 
wearing  the  form  but  lacking  the  soul  of  a  man,  makes 
the  weak  points  of  those  with  whom  he  is  thrown  in  con- 
tact his  special  study,  only  that  he  may  the  more  certainly 
rob  them  of  all  the  jewels  which  a  kind  and  beneficent 
Creator  has  bestowed  upon  them ;  and,  if  it  were  possible 


102 

that  one  portion  of  the  eternal  burning  should  be  hotter 
than  another,  surely  those  demons  would,  by  the  justice 
of  the  Almighty,  be  consigned  to  that  hotter  portion. 

I  could  not  reproach  my  husband ;  I  loved  him  too  well 
for  that ;  and,  beside,  I  felt  that  he  was  more  to  be  pitied 
than  blamed.  Possessed  of  a  gay  and  lively  disposition, 
generous  to  a  fault,  and  fond  of  society,  he  was  just  the 
man  to  be  selected  by  these  sharpers  as  the  victim  of 
their  devilish  arts ;  and  he  must  have  been  possessed  of 
more  than  human  virtue  had  he  been  able  to  resist  the 
many  wiles  and  temptations  with  which  they  studiously 
surrounded  him :  and  yet,  I  could  not  repress  the  reflec- 
tion, that  had  he  confided  in  me,  at  the  time  I  first  ap- 
pealed to  him,  I  might  have  saved  him.  But  that  was 
now  all  past.  He  had  tried  to  conceal  it  from  me  as  long 
as  he  was  able ;  had  retained  the  secret  in  his  own  breast 
until  concealment  was  no  longer  possible ;  until  he  must 
give  up  his  stables,  his  horses,  carriages;  his  fine  resi- 
dence and  furniture  and  servants;  and  now,  the  only 
question  was,  "  What  was  to  be  done  ?  "  An  examination 
of  his  affairs  showed  that,  after  giving  up  everything  he 
had  in  the  world,  he  would  still  fall  short  nearly  a  thousand 
dollars  of  paying  his  indebtedness,  and  womanlike,  I  be- 
gan to  cast  about  to  see  what  I  could  do  to  help  him. 

I  had  some  fine  jewelry  and  a  valuable  watch — pres- 
ents from  Eugene  in  our  brighter  and  happier  days.  I 
could  raise  two  or  three  thousand  dollars  on  them,  but 
what  would  this  amount  to  in  the  payment  of  the  enor- 
mous debt  hanging  over  my  husband  ?  It  would  be  but 
as  a  drop  in  -the  bucket;  but,  still,  every  dollar  would 
help,  and  though  it  ground  my  heart  into  the  very  dust  to 
think  of  parting  with  these  precious  mementoes  of  his 
love,  stern  necessity  knows  no  law,  and  I  decided  that 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  108 

they  must  go.  But  what  could  be  done  to  save  us  a  home 
from  the  general  wreck  ?  I  could  ask  Captain  Lake  to 
aid  us  in  this  emergency;  but  though  he  had  money 
enough,  which  of  right  belonged  to  me,  to  pay  off  all 
Eugene's  debts,  I  very  much  doubted  if  he  would  do  any 
thing,  for  he  was  a  close,  miserly  man,  who  never  gave  a 
cent  for  charity  or  any  other  noble  and  generous  purpose. 
But  what  else  could  be  done  ?  Our  home  would  be  sold 
the  next  day,  and  we  would  be  without  eren  a  shelter  for 
our  heads,  and  I  must  try  what  I  could  do. 

Accordingly  I  went  to  Captain  Lake,  and  told  him  all 
about  Eugene's  temptation  and  fall,  and  my  plans  and 
hopes  for  the  future,  and  besought  him  to  aid  me  to  save 
my  servants  and  furniture,  and  to  my  agreeable  surprise 
he  agreed  to  do  so.  I  blessed  him  from  the  bottom  of  my 
heart,  hastened  home  and  told  my  husband  we  could  save 
our  furniture,  and  keep  our  home ;  for  if  the  house  was 
sold  I  would  sell  my  diamonds  and  raise  money  enough  to 
pay  the  rent  of  it  for  a  year,  and  this  would  give  him  a 
chance  to  turn  around  and  begin  business  anew.  I  told 
him  of  my  interview  with  Captain  Lake,  and  what  he  had 
promised,  and  informed  him  of  my  plans  for  the  future. 
He  wept  tears  of  joy  and  gratitude,  not  unmingled  with 
sorrow,  at  the  sacrifices  I  was  making  on  his  account,  and 
solemnly  promised  me,  upon  his  bended  knees,  that  he 
would  reform,  and  would  apply  himself  once  more  to  busi- 
ness, and  try  to  redeem  our  property.  He  implored  my 
forgiveness  for  the  sorrow  he  had  given  me,  and  faithfully 
promised  that  he  would  never  practice  such  concealment 
with  me  again. 

Of  course,  I  gave  him  my  entire  forgiveness,  but  could 
not  refrain  from  telling  him  how  much  better  I  thought  it 
would  have  been  for  both  of  us,  had  he  placed  in  me  the 


104  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

confidence  which  every  husband  should  feel  toward  a  true 
and  loving  wife.  He  assented  to  all  that  I  said  upon  this 
point,  and  over  and  over  again  called  me  his  guardian 
angel,  and  promised  never  to  have  any  secrets  from  me 
again.  But  even  at  the  time  of  registering  this  solemn 
promise,  he  bore  within  his  breast  a  fearful  secret  which 
was  one  day  to  destroy  all  my  confidence  in  him,  and 
more  completely  blight  my  happiness  than  anything  else 
could  have  done. 

The  day  of  sale  came,  and  with  it  an  immense  crowd; 
some  attracted  by  a  desire  to  speculate  out  of  our  misfor- 
tunes, and  others  by  that  insatiable  and  inexplicable  feel- 
ing of  curiosity  which  always  prompts  envious  mortals  to 
gaze  upon  the  fallen  grandeur  of  others.  I  could  not 
stay  at  home,  and  see  all  those  articles  which  were  so 
dear  to  me  hawked  about  By  an  unfeeling  mob,  who  knew 
not  their  sacredness,  and  accordingly  went  to  Captain 
Lake's.  On  my  way  out  I  passed  Captain  Lake  going 
into  the  city.  He  merely  smiled,  and  said,  "  all  is  well," 
in  response  to  my  eager  salutation.  My  heart  was  heavy 
with  grief,  but  it  is  impossible  to  portray  the  feeling  of 
comfort  and  consolation  which  those  simple  words  imparted 
to  me.  I  felt  that  it  was  indeed  well,  and  went  on  my 
way  with  a  lighter  heart  than  before.  The  bidding  upon 
some  articles  was  quite  spirited,  but  Captain  Lake  bought 
all  the  furniture,  and  the  three  servants,  had  the  bill  of 
sale  made  out  in  my  name,  and  handed  it  over  to  me  saying, 
"  Here,  Annie,  is  a  father's  gift  to  his  daughter."  I  felt  as 
if  I  could  have  fallen  down  and  kissed  his  feet  for  very 
joy,  and  my  heart  was  full  of  gratitude  for  his  kindness, 
in  this  my  hour  of  trouble.  I  concluded  Captain  Lake 
was  not,  after  all,  so  bad  a  man  as  I  had  always  thought 


THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK   AGENT.  105 

him,  and  my  heart  smote  me,  as  I  remembered  the  bitter- 
ness which  had  once  filled  my  heart  toward  him. 

In  the  evening,  after  the  sale  was  over,  and  the  crowd 
had  gone  away,  I  went  home,  and  soon  after  reaching 
there,  a  gentleman  called  who  gave  his  name  as  Mortimore. 
I  at  once  recognized  the  name  as  that  of  a  man  notorious 
throughout  the  city  for  being  a  great  gambler,  and  scru- 
tinized his  countenance  closely.  It  was  cold,  impassive, 
hard  and  brutal,  just  what  the  countenance  of  a  gambler 
should  be,  and,  though  his  manners  were  elegant,  his  voice 
and  speech  exactly  tallied  with  his  countenance.  My 
husband  was  not  in  when  he  came,  and  without  any  pre- 
liminaries he  told  me  that  the  house  belonged  to  him; 
that  he  had  bought  it  that  day  at  the  sale,  and  he  would 
like  to  have  us  move  out  immediately,  as  he  had  use  for  it. 
This  information  was  imparted  in  a  hard  measured  tone, 
which  was  plainly  intended  to  intimate  that  the  matter 
would  admit  of  no  debate. 

"  But,  sir,  what  use  do  you  intend  to  make  of  it  ?  Do 
you  intend  to  occupy  it  yourself?" 

"No;  I  shall  rent  it." 

"  But  we  can  not  move  to-night,  and,  beside,  this  furni- 
ture and  the  servants  are  all  here,  and  must  be  taken 
care  of" 

"  The  gentleman  who  bought  the  niggers  and  furniture 
will  no  doubt  take  them  away  immediately;  and  as  I  can 
get  eleven  hundred  dollars  a  year  for  the  house,  I  want  to 
rent  it  at  once,  and  you  must  move.  Of  course,  you  have 
no  money  to  pay  rent  with." 

"Is  eleven  hundred  dollars  a  year  your  price  for  the 
house?" 

"It  is." 

"  I  will  take  it  for  a  year." 


106  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

"You,  madam!" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  will  take  it.  You  can  call  day  after  to- 
morrow morning  and  get  your  money  for  a  year's  rent." 

"  You  will  pay  me  eleven  hundred  dollars  day  after  to- 
morrow ?" 

"  I  have  said  so." 

"  But  what  will  you  do  for  furniture  ?" 

"Know,  sir,  that  this  furniture  and  these  servants  are 
mine.  The  gentleman  who  bought  them  is  my  father,  and 
he  bought  them  for  me." 

"Madam,  I  beg  your  pardon.  Did  I  understand  you  to 
say  that  this  furniture  was  yours,  and  that  you  would  pay 
me  eleven  hundred  dollars,  day  after  to-morrow,  for  the 
house  ?" 

"I  said  so,  sir.     Can  we  have  the  house?" 

"  Certainly,  madam — certainly." 

"  Will  you  now  do  me  the  favor  to  go  ?" 

He  at  once  complied  with  my  request,  and  bowed  him- 
self out,  quite  crestfallen,  and  much  more  respectful  in  his 
manner  than  when  he  came  to  order  us  to  vacate  at  once. 
Soon  after  his  departure  my  husband  came  in,  and  when  I 
told  him  what  had  taken  place,  his  indignation  knew  no 
bounds.  He  was  for  following  the  brute,  and  inflicting 
summary  chastisement  upon  him  for  his  impudence.  He 
bad  no  kindly  feeling  toward  the  author  of  all  our  misfor- 
tunes, and  this  last  insult  caused  the  cup  of  his  wrath  to 
boil  over.  But  I  restrained  him,  and  finally  soothed  him 
into  a  promise  to  take  no  notice  whatever  of  his  brutality. 

The  next  day  I  sold  my  jewelry,  my  watch  and  chain, 
and  all  my  silverware,  and  we  found  that,  after  paying  the 
year's  rent,  we  could  raise  about  two  thousand  dollars  for 
my  husband  to  begin  anew  with.  He  thought  that,  by  go- 
ing into  the  business  of  buying  and  selling  horses,  he  could 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  107 

do  well,  and,  in  time,  regain  something  like  our  old  po- 
sition. This  would  necessarily  take  him  from  home  a 
great  deal,  and  I  dreaded  his  removal  from  my  influence, 
fearing  he  would  relapse  into  his  old  habits  again;  but 
there  seemed  no  other  chance  to  do  anything,  and  I  yielded 
a  reluctant  consent. 

Mortimore  came  the  next  morning  for  his  rent,  but  his 
manner  was  altogether  different  from  what  it  had  been 
when  he  was  there  before.  Eugene  would  not  see  him  at 
all,  fearing  he  would  be  so  much  exasperated  at  the  sight 
of  him  as  to  be  unable  to  restrain  himself;  but  I  paid  him  his 
money,  and  took  from  him  a  receipt  in  full  for  one  year's 
rent  of  the  house  that  had  been  ours  alone  before  the  bane- 
ful shadow  of  his  presence  fell  across  my  poor  Eugene's 
pathway.  My  heart  was  full  almost  to  bursting  as  these 
reflections  rushed  across  my  mind;  but,  in  the  midst  of  all, 
I  rejoiced  that  I  had  been  able  to  save  even  so  much  from 
the  general  wreck. 

After  making  the  necessary  arrangements,  my  husband 
set  out  on  a  trading  trip,  intending  to  be  gone  about  six 
weeks;  and  he  solemnly  renewed  to  me,  at  parting,  his 
promise  that  he  would  not  touch  either  cards  or  liquor. 
And  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that,  during  that  trip 
at  least,  he  faithfully  kept  his  promise. 


108 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

It  had  been  about  six  weeks  since  my  husband  started 
away,  and  the  time  of  his  expected  return  was  at  hand. 
My  anxiety  to  see  him  was  intense ;  for,  despite  my  confi- 
dence in  his  promises,  I  could  not  repress  a  feeling  of  un- 
easiness lest  he  should  be  met  by  temptation  too  strong 
for  him  to  overcome.  I  knew  that  he  was  not  fully  weaned 
from  the  excitement  of  his  former  evil  associations,  and 
dreaded  the  ejBfect  of  his  meeting  once  more  the  society 
into  which  I  supposed  he  would  be  thrown. 

As  for  myself  I  had  got  along  finely  during  his  absence. 
I  had  hired  Tom  and  Caroline  out,  retaining  only  aunt  Sil- 
vie  at  home  ;  and,  with  the  wages  which  they  earned,  and 
the  little  money  I  had  when  Eugene  went  away,  had  lived 
very  comfortably,  and  had  managed  to  save  a  little  some- 
thing. Caroline  was  the  nurse,  and,  as  I  had  never  been 
accustomed  to  having  the  care  of  the  children  myself,  it 
went  rather  awkwardly  at  first  to  do  without  her,  but  I 
could  do  it,  and  would  do  that  or  anything  else,  to  econo- 
mize our  slender  resources,  and  enable  my  husband  to  get 
another  start  in  the  world. 

At  length  Eugene  came.  And  as  soon  as  I  saw  him  I 
was  satisfied  he  had  been  true  to  his  promise.  His  eyes 
and  countenance  were  clear,  and  bore  no  traces  of  dissi- 
pation, and  he  met  my  gaze  without  flinching.  He  seemed 
to  read  my  anxiety  in  my  countenance,  and  laughing  a 
little,  quiet,  good-natured  sort  of  laugh,  he  said: 

^Annie,  dismiss  your  fears  and  doubts.  I  have  most 
faithfully  kept  my  promise,  and  have  broken  company  for- 
ever with  those  vile  habits  which  caused  our  ruin." 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  109 

What  words  of  joy  to  me.  Although  I  had  never  re- 
ally doubted  him,  still  it  was,  before  that  time,  impossible 
to  rid  myself  of  some  slight  traces  of  fear,  not  for  the  up- 
rightness of  his  intentions  —  oh!  no,  I  never  even  sus- 
pected that — but  I  trembled  for  his  strength.  I  knew  he 
had  once  been  tempted  and  had  fallen,  and  I  trembled  at 
the  bare  thought  of  his  being  thus  fearfully  tried  again. 
But  now  I  felt  that  temptation  was  powerless  against  him. 
He  was  clad  in  impenetrable  armor,  and  could  laugh  to 
scorn  the  fiercest  shafts  of  the  enemy. 

He  had  met  with  the  most  extraordinary  good  fortune 
during  this  trip,  and  had,  during  the  short  space  of  less 
than  two  months,  almost  doubled  the  money  with  which 
he  started  out.  He  had  purchased  and  sold  one  drove  of 
horses,  upon  which  alone  he  had  cleared  nearly  one  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  every  adventure  in  which  he  had  en- 
gaged had  been  in  the  highest  degree  successful.  Of 
course  he  could  not  always  expect  to  meet  with  such  suc- 
cess ;  doubtless  he  would  sometimes  lose  on  some  of  his 
bargains,  but  the  happy  results  of  this  trip  elated  us  in 
the  highest  degree,  and  we  at  once  set  about  forming  our 
plans  for  obtaining  another  home.  Our  rent  was  paid  for 
a  year  where  we  were,  and,  of  course,  we  would  remain 
there  until  that  expired.  He  would  continue  his  trading 
speculations  during  that  time,  and,  if  attended  with  any 
degree  of  success,  he  would  be  able,  at  the  end  of  the 
year,  to  purchase  a  home  of  our  own,  and  thus  save  the 
enormous  rent  we  were  now  compelled  to  pay.  Thus  we 
looked  at  the  future ;  thus  in  roseate  colors  it  presented 
itself  to  us,  and  we  were  as  happy  that  night  as  two  human 
beings  could  well  be — happier,  I  doubt  not,  than  if  we  had 
never  known  the  chastening  fires  of  adversity. 

And  our  fine-laid  plans  were  carried  into  effect.     Dur- 


110  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

ing  the  entire  year  my  husband  spent  but  little  time  at 
home,  applying  himself  with  the  utmost  assiduity  to  the 
calling  he  had  marked  out  for  himself,  and  though  never 
again,  during  the  entire  year,  did  he  have  such  extraordi- 
nary good  fortune  as  upon  that  first  trip — though  he  even 
lost  money  on  some  of  his  investments — still  he  was 
slowly,  but  steadily  increasing  the  sum  at  his  banker's 
which  was  finally  to  buy  us  a  home.  I,  too,  did  what  I 
could  to  aid  him,  continued  to  practice  every  species  of 
economy  of  which  I  was  mistress,  and  the  result  was,  that 
at  the  end  of  the  year,  we  found  ourselves  in  possession 
of  sufficient  means  to  buy  a  very  comfortable  house, 
though,  by  no  means,  equal  to  the  one  we  were  quitting. 
But  we  left  it  without  regret.  If  our  new  home  was  less 
stately  and  magnificent  than  the  old  one — if  I  had  not  as 
fine  jewelry  and  as  costly  plate  as  before — still  the  home 
was  our  own,  and,  best  of  all,  my  husband  was  saved. 
Was  I  not  once  more  a  happy  woman  ? 

But  fate  was  not  done  persecuting  us,  nor  were  our  mis- 
fortunes yet  ended.  Scarcely  had  we  got  settled  in  our 
new  home,  when  our  little  Carrie  was  prostrated  by  a 
most  -violent  attack  of  fever,  and  for  three  weeks  she  lay 
at  death's  door.  Eugene  was  from  home  when  she  was 
taken  ill,  and  it  was  a  long  time  before  I  could  get  any 
message  to  him,  not  knowing  his  whereabouts,  and  I 
really  feared  she  would  die  before  he  came  home.  We 
had  learned  to  love  her  as  one  of  our  own,  and  the  idea 
of  her  dying  in  his  absence  was  inexpressibly  painful  to 
me.  The  thought  of  losing  her  under  any  circumstances 
was  the  most  acute  torture;  but,  when  to  this  was  added 
the  dread  of  her  dying  without  her  adopted  father  seeing 
her,  the  agony  was  almost  insupportable. 

But,  thank  God,  I  was  spared  this  trial.     I  succeeded 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  Ill 

in  learning  where  my  husband  was,  and  at  once  sent  a 
special  messenger  for  him.  Of  course  he  dropped  all 
business  at  once,  and  hastened  home  by  the  most  ex- 
peditious conveyance,  and  but  a  few  days  elapsed  after 
his  arrival  until  the  old  physician,  who  had  given  her  the 
most  unremitting  care  and  attention,  announced  to  us 
that  the  crisis  of  her  disease  was  passed,  and  that  her 
life  would  be  saved.  Never  was  a  sentence  uttered  which 
conveyed  more  joy  to  a  human  heart  than  that  did  to 
mine.  During  her  long  illness  I  either  sat  by  her  little 
crib,  or  held  her  in  my  arms  almost  the  whole  time,  and 
to  know  that  my  watching  and  care  had  not  been  in  vain, 
and  that  she  would  be  saved  to  us,  filled  my  heart  with 
thankfulness.  Of  course  she  was  not  out  of  danger  yet, 
and  it  was  a  long  time  before  she  was  well  again ;  but  the 
worst  was  now  over,  and  together  we  lifted  up  our  voices 
in  thanksgiving  to  Him  who  had  kindly  given  us  the  life 
of  our  little  one,  even  after  almost  all  hope  seemed  lost. 

But  another  of  our  little  family  was  to  pass  through  the 
same  ordeal.  Scarcely  had  the  crisis  of  Carrie's  illness 
passed  when  Frankie  was  smitten  down  by  the  same 
disease.  The  attack,  though  less  protracted  than  Carrie's 
case,  was  more  violent ;  and,  for  ten  days,  his  moans  of 
anguish  and  cries  of  pain  thrilled  in  my  ears,  and  trans- 
fixed every  nerve  of  my  frame  with  the  most  acute  agony. 
But  he,  too,  through  the  mercy  of  God,  and  the  skill  of 
our  venerable  physician,  was  saved  to  us ;  and,  again,  we 
wept  tears  of  joy  and  thankfulness,  as  we  bent  over  our 
little  lamb,  snatched,  as  it  were,  from  the  very  jaws  of 
death. 

But  these  afflictions  had  sadly  deranged  our  affairs. 
We  not  only  had  heavy  medical  bills  to  pay,  but  the  con- 
stant watching  had  so  worn  me  out  that  we  were  com- 
8 


112 

pelled  to  summon  Caroline  home,  and  we  thus  lost  the 
aid  of  the  wages  she  was  earning,  while  our  expenses  at 
home  were  perceptibly  increased.  Beside,  Eugene  had 
entirely  neglected  his  business  in  the  care  of  the  children, 
and  through  the  incapacity,  or  rascality,  of  an  agent  whom 
he  had  left  in  charge  of  his  stock  when  he  came  home,  he 
not  only  entirely  lost  several  horses,  but  the  others,  for 
want  of  care  and  attention,  so  much  depreciated  in  value 
that  he  lost  nearly  a  thousand  dollars  upon  the  stock  he 
had  on  hand.  This  amount,  which  would  once  have  ap- 
peared so  trifling  to  us,  at  this  time  made  a  very  serious 
hole  in  our  limited  finances,  and  rendered  still  further 
economy  and  care  necessary  in  the  management  of  our 
affairs. 

About  this  time,  also,  I  received  a  letter  from  the  far 
away  land  of  California,  which  caused  my  heart  to  beat 
with  the  most  anxious  fears,  for  though  it  bore  the  Sacra- 
mento post-mark  it  was  written  in  a  strange  hand,  and  my 
first  thought  was  that  my  brother,  the  only  member  of  my 
father's  family  under  the  broad  canopy  of  heaven,  was 
dead.  I  felt  sick  at  heart,  and  for  a  time  hesitated  to 
open  it,  dreading  the  confirmation  of  my  worst  fears,  but 
when  I  finally  mustered  courage  enough  to  open  the  seal, 
it  was  not  quite  so  bad  as  I  had  thought,  though  still  bad 
enough.  Frank  was  not  dead  though  very  sick,  and 
among  almost  entire  strangers,  his  only  acquaintance  there 
being  the  friend  and  comrade  who  had  written  the  letter 
to  me  at  his  request.  The  writer  stated  that  Frank  was 
very  much  disheartened,  and  was  under  the  impression 
that  he  would  never  be  any  better^  but  that  his  bones 
would  be  laid  to  rest  in  that  far  off  land. 

The  reader  may  imagine,  but  words  will  hardly  express 
the  pain  with  which  this  intelligence  thrilled  my  heart. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  113 

My  brother  Frank  —  my  last  surviving  blood  relation,  the 
brother  to  whom  I  had  been  wont  to  look  for  direction  and 
assistance  in  every  trouble — was  lying  dangerously  ill  in 
a  distant  country,  among  strangers — doubtless  deprived  of 
every  comfort,  and  even  of  the  nursing  and  attention  which 
his  condition  demanded,  and  I  was  powerless  to  do  any- 
thing to  aid  him.  I  would  have  given  anything  to  be  with 
him,  but  many  thousand  miles  of  wild  and  sterile  land  sep- 
arated us ;  and  even  had  it  been  possible  for  me  to  get  to 
him,  the  situation  of  my  own  family  would  have  precluded 
me  from  making  the  attempt.  I  looked  at  the  date  of  the 
letter — it  was  nearly  three  months  since  it  had  been  writ- 
ten— and  who  could  tell  whether  my  poor  brother's  gloomy 
anticipations  had  been  realized  during  that  time  ?  Yes ;  I 
felt  that  it  must  be  so.  His  depression  of  spirits,  it  seemed 
to  me,  must  have  exercised  a  serious  influence  upon  his 
disease ;  and  I  felt  assured  that  his  career  must  have  ended, 
far  from  home  and  friends,  and  that  his  last  resting-place 
was  in  some  wild,  gloomy  dell,  unmarked  by  any  memento 
which  would  aid  me  in  any  way  to  identify  it,  should  I  ever 
wish  to  visit  and  water  it  with  my  tears.  Ah !  how  sad 
was  this  reflection  to  my  already  sorely-tried  spirit. 

For  the  next  three  weeks  I  was  infinitely  miserable. 
Fancy  was  constantly  presenting  to  my  mental  vision  the 
most  vivid  pictures  of  the  imaginary  death-scene  of  my 
brother;  and  even  in  my  dreams  I  heard  his  voice  calling 
upon  me  for  that  assistance  and  comfort  which  I  was  ut- 
terly powerless  to  render.  But,  at  the  end  of  that  time 
came  a  letter  which  turned  all  my  mourning  into  joy,  and 
my  weeping  into  songs  of  praise  and  thanksgiving.  My 
brother,  instead  of  dying,  as  he  anticipated,  and  as  his 
friend  thought  he  certainly  would,  had  finally  recovered, 
and  would  start  home  as  soon  as  he  could  close  up  his 


114  ANiVIE    NELLES  ;    OR, 

business,  which  would  be  in  about  three  or  four  weeks  from 
the  date  of  the  letter. 

According  to  this,  he  must  be  on  his  way  home,  and  would 
no  doubt  soon  be  here.  Oh!  with  what  joy  I  received 
this  intelligence,  and  how  earnestly  did  I  look  forward  to 
the  time  of  our  anticipated  meeting.  Time  seemed  to  me 
to  move  all  too  slow,  and  it  was  with  the  utmost  impatience 
that  I  watched  for  his  arrival.  When  it  is  remembered,  by 
the  reader,  that  it  was  almost  five  years  since  I  had  parted 
with  him,  beside  the  grave  of  our  father,  in  the  city  of 
Philadelphia,  it  will  not  be  thought  strange  that  my  anx- 
iety for  his  coming  was  almost  insupportable.  My  hus- 
band used  to  rally  me,  good-naturedly,  of  course,  upon  my 
impatience,  and  to  say  that  he  should  be  jealous  if  I  per- 
sisted in  such  demonstration  of  evident  affection  for  "  this 
foreigner,"  as  he  styled  him;  and  I  would  retort  that,  if 
he  became  at  all  disagreeable,  I  should  forsake  him  entirely 
for  the  "  foreigner." 

At  last  he  came,  and  the  reader  need  not  be  told  that 
his  greeting  was  the  w^armest  that  it  was  in  my  power  to 
bestow,  for  words  will  hardly  express  my  joy  at  again  meet- 
ing him.  But  how  he  was  changed  in  the  five  years  since 
our  adieus  were  spoken  beside  our  father's  tomb.  Then 
his  appearance  was  that  of  a  smooth-faced  and  rather  deli- 
cate-appearing youth :  now  he  was  a  man — tall,  robust  and 
stalwart,  his  face  bronzed,  and  his  muscles  hardened  by 
toil  and  exposure,  while  a  heavy,  dark  beard  and  mustache 
entirely  concealed  the  lower  part  of  his  face,  and  gave  him 
a  sort  of  brigandish  look,  so  different  from  his  former  gentle 
and  almost  effeminate  appearance  that,  had  I  not  been  ex- 
pecting his  arrival,  I  should  certainly  never  have  recog- 
nized him.  But,  how  he  had  improved!  His  robust, 
manly  frame,  and  fine  muscular  development,  now  chal- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  115. 

lenged  my  admiration,  as  his  kindness  to  me  in  former 
days  had  won  my  affection ;  and  I  was  now  as  proud  of 
my  brother  as  it  was  possible  for  a  sister  to  be ;  while,  upon 
his  part,  his  affection  for  me  seemed  to  be  stronger  and 
more  enduring  than  ever.  But  we  were  not  permitted  long 
to  enjoy  the  happiness  of  our  reunion.  Events  were  al- 
ready at  work  which  were  to  sever  forever  the  ties  that 
had  bound  us  so  closely  to  each  other  during  the  whole  of 
our  lives. 

My  brother  returned  from  California  in  the  month  of  De- 
cember, 1860.  The  election  of  Abraham  Lincoln  as  Pres- 
ident of  the  United  States  had  just  taken  place,  and  the 
events  of  that  fall  and  winter  are  fresh  in  the  minds  of  my 
readers.  The  entire  South  was  full  of  feverish  excitement. 
State  after  State  was  adopting  the  ordinance  of  secession ; 
the  air  was  vocal  with  the  sounds  of  military  preparation ; 
and  the  universal  topic  of  conversation  w^as,  independence 
and  war  to  the  knife  against  the  so-called  Abolition  en- 
croachments. 

I  am  about  to  enter  into  no  apology  for  the  rebellion 
which  so  long  convulsed  our  land  and  drenched  it  in  fra- 
ternal gore ;  which  has  clothed  every  house  in  mourning, 
and  inflicted  wounds  which  can  not  be  healed  until  this 
generation  shall  have  passed  away.  On  the  contrary,  im- 
partial history  will  record  our  late  civil  war  as  the  most 
egregious  folly,  if  not  the  most  gigantic  crime,  of  the  world's 
annals.  Abjuring  at  once  all  obligation  to  that  Govern- 
ment which  had  so  long  fostered  them,  and  under  which 
they  had  become  opulent  and  powerful,  the  Southern  States 
plunged  into  a  ferocious  and  bloody  warfare,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  protecting  certain  species  of  property  against  the 
fancied  designs  of  men  who  were  supposed  to  be  hostile  to 
its  further  continuance:  and  the  result  has  been  just  what 


116 

might  have  been  anticipated  by  any  one  not  maddened  by 
the  excitement  which  ruled  the  entire  South  at  this  time. 
The  property  in  defense  of  which  they  took  up  arms,  has 
been  swept  away  entirely  and  forever;  their  land  has  been 
impoverished  to  the  extent  of  millions  of  dollars;  and  every 
Southern  heart  is  compelled  to  bear  the  burden  of  mourn- 
ing for  relatives  slain  and  maimed  in  a  cause  upon  which 
the  blessing  of  heaven  never  rested. 

That  there  were  many  good  men  whose  hearts  disap- 
proved of  the  part  they  were  acting,  and  who  saw  no  just 
cause  for  rebellion  in  the  then  existing  condition  of  affairs ; 
but  who  were  forced  into  the  revolt,  against  their  will,  by 
the  force  of  popular  opinion,  by  the  wily  arts  of  unscrupu- 
lous demagogues,  and  by  the  mischievous  doctrines  of 
"  States'  Rights  "  which  had  been  so  long  inculcated  by 
leading  Southern  politicians,  is  no  doubt  true ;  and  for  such 
men  I  have  no  words  of  condemnation.  While  their  folly 
is  to  be  most  bitterly  deplored — not  only  for  the  sake  of 
general  humanity,  but,  also,  in  view  of  the  fearful  conse- 
quences which  have  followed  their  delusion — still  must 
they  be  acquitted  of  the  terrible  criminality  which  attends 
their  leaders.  But  for  these  last,  for  those  who  imposed 
upon  them  that  delusion  —  those  who  molded  and  formed 
that  public  opinion  by  which  they  were  precipitated  into 
the  rebellion — the  blood  of  a  million  of  slaughtered  victims, 
and  the  tears  of  countless  widows  and  orphans,  cry  aloud 
for  vengeance.  And  so  sure  as  there  is  a  just  God  who 
shall  hereafter  reward  every  man  according  to  his  works, 
so  sure  will  these  men  have  a  fearful  account  to  render 
hereafter. 

My  brother  was  one  of  those  men  who,  by  the  arts  of 
those  leaders,  was  duped  into  giving  his  support  to  this 
movement.     Born  and  bred  in  the  South,  thoroughly  im- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  117 

bued  with  the  pernicious  doctrine  of  State  sovereignty, 
ignorant  of  the  arts  of  wily  and  scheming  politicians, 
reading  only  those  publications  which  depicted  in  the  most 
glowing  terms  the  dangerous  doctrines  and  designs  of  the 
abolitionists,  generous  and  manly  to  a  fault,  and  glowing 
with  a  hatred  of  oppression  and  resentment,  for  real  or 
fancied  injury,  what  wonder  that,  viewing  the  matter  from 
the  standpoint  to  which  he  had  been  educated,  he  earn- 
estly espoused  the  cause  of  his  native  section,  threatened, 
as  he  supposed  her  to  be,  with  almost  entire  destruction 
by  the  fanatics  of  the  North  ?  In  vain  I  reasoned  with 
and  entreated  him  not  to  engage  in  the  struggle  at  all — 
to  at  least  remain  neutral — his  reply  was  that  his  honor 
was  at  stake,  and  that  his  conscience  would  not  suffer 
him  to  remain  an  idle  spectator  of  the  contest,  in  which 
it  might  be  the  life  of  his  country  was  the  stake.  In  vain 
my  husband  seconded  my  arguments  and  entreaties  with 
all  the  means  at  his  command — we  were  powerless  to 
move  him,  and  each  day  saw  him  a  more  and  more  ardent 
advocate  of  the  independence  of  the  South.  Captain 
Lake,  who  had  embraced  with  the  utmost  ardor  the  cause 
of  the  South,  used  all  his  influence  with  Frank  against  us, 
and  his  doctrines  harmonizing  entirely  with  Frank's  in- 
clinations, made  him  a  most  powerful  antagonist. 

At  length  came  the  actual  commencement  of  hostilities, 
the  attack  upon  Fort  Sumpter,  and  the  entire  nation,  both 
North  and  South,  was  convulsed  as  by  a  mighty  electric 
shock.  As  the  news  flashed  from  place  to  place  along 
the  wires,  business  of  every  kind  was  suspended,  and 
everything  gave  way  to  the  work  of  raising  troops  for  the 
struggle  then  inaugurated.  The  city  of  Atlanta  was  no 
exception  to  the  general  rule.  The  stores  were  generally 
closed,  eager  and  excited  crowds  thronged  the  streets ;  the 


118 

stirring  notes  of  fife  and  drum  were  heard  at  all  hours  of 
the  day  and  night ;  at  every  street  corner  excited  and  elo- 
quent speakers  harangued  equally  excited  crowds,  urging 
them  to  rush  to  arms  in  support  of  their  threatened  and 
endangered  liberties ;  the  listeners  testified  their  approba- 
tion by  constant  and  wild  cheering,  and  the  enlistment  of 
men  proceeded  with  almost  marvelous  rapidity.  Young 
and  old,  rich  and  poor,  all  classes  vied  in  their  efforts  to 
secure  a  place  in  the  ranks  of  the  army,  and  none  who 
applied  were  turned  away.  Could  they,  at  that  time,  have 
foreseen  the  results  of  the  mad  excitement  of  that  hour, 
could  they  have  had  the  slightest  glimpse  of  the  horrid 
events  of  the  coming  four  years,  how  many  would  have 
recoiled,  shuddering,  from  the  act  they  were  now  so  eager 
to  do. 

Among  the  earliest  to  enroll  himself  was  Captain  Lake, 
though  already  over  fifty  years  of  age.  He  was  lustily 
cheered  by  the  unthinking  mob,  who  saw  him  sign  his 
name  to  what  eventually  proved  his  death-warrant,  and 
was  rewarded  for  his  "  patriotism,"  by  being  elected  com- 
mander of  the  company  of  which  he  was  a  member.  He 
at  once  proceeded  to  organize  his  command,  was  duly 
commissioned  a  Captain,  and  entered  the  service  of  the 
Confederacy  in  that  capacity. 

The  next  day  my  brother,  whom  I  had  not  seen  since 
the  beginning  of  the  fierce  excitement,  came  home  and 
told  me  that  he,  too,  had  enlisted  and  had  been  chosen 
First  Lieutenant  of  his  company.  I  wept  bitter  tears  at 
this  intelligence,  but  the  deed  was  done,  and  it  was  too 
late  to  undo  the  evil,  nor  would  I  then  urge  him  to  for- 
sake his  plighted  faith.  Although  my  heart  disapproved 
the  cause,  still  I  could  not  but  admire  the  manhood  which 
led  him  to  this  step,  and  having  once  taken  it,  I  felt  that 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  119 

he  would  be  dishonored  were  he  to  retract,  but  the  con- 
templation of  the  future  had  no  charms  for  me.  He  tried 
to  comfort  me  by  telling  me  that  there  would  be  no  war, 
that  the  North  would  not  fight,  and  that  all  they  had  to 
do  was  to  make  a  display  of  force,  and  in  six  weeks  their 
ends  would  be  obtained,  and  they  would  all  be  at  home 
again.  But  all  he  could  say  to  me  did  not  divest  my  mind 
of  the  impression  that  I  should  never  see  him  again.  Was 
this  a  presentiment  ?  He  then  tried  to  induce  my  hus- 
band to  go  into  the  army  with  him,  using  all  the  argu- 
ments his  imagination  could  suggest  in  favor  of  this  course, 
and  making  the  most  extravagant  promises  of  future  good 
if  he  would  consent  to  do  so.  But  his  arguments  and 
entreaties  were  alike  unavailing,  and  Eugene  continued 
firm  in  his  refusal. 

But  a  few  days  were  allowed  the  newly  raised  troops  in 
which  to  prepare  for  leaving  their  homes,  many  of  them, 
alas !  never  to  return.  Captain  Lake,  before  his  departure, 
perhaps  realizing  how  foully  he  had  wronged  me,  and 
willing  to  make  what  amends  he  could,  made  a  sort  of 
will,  devising  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  me  in  the  event  of 
his  death.  My  brother  too,  having  been  eminently  suc- 
cessful in  California,  made  the  most  generous  provision 
for  me  in  case  of  his  death.  He  had  brought  home  some 
eighty  thousand  dollars,  and  he  gave  the  strongest  proof 
of  his  fraternal  affection  by  devising  the  whole  of  this 
vast  sum  for  my  benefit.  Had  I  been  able,  gentle  reader, 
to  secure  the  benefit  of  this  munificent  provision  for  my 
future,  this  story  had  most  likely  never  been  written,  for 
many  of  the  vicissitudes  of  my  life  had  then  never  taken 
place. 

Within  a  day  or  two  after  these  dispositions  were  made 
my  brother  came  to  bid  me  good-bye.     He  was  clad  in 


120  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

the  uniform  of  his  command,  and  though  at  sight  of  it  my 
tears  flowed  afresh,  still  I  could  not  but  feel  a  natural 
pride  in  the  erect  and  manly  carriage  which  distinguished 
him,  and  the  grace  with  which  he  bore  himself  in  his  new 
position.  But  the  adieus  were  soon  spoken,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  I  had  again  parted  with  my  only  living  relative, 
and  this  time  it  really  was,  what  I  had  often  before  im- 
agined, a  parting  forever  on  this  side  of  eternity.   . 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  121 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Time  in  its  ever  ceaseless  flight  passed  away — the  days 
lengthened  into  weeks,  and  the  weeks  grew  into  months, 
and  instead  of  the  war  being  ended  in  six  weeks,  as  its 
advocates  prophesied,  it  was  evident  to  the  most  casual 
observer,  that  it  was  but  just  begun.  The  North  had  dis- 
played a  spirit  entirely  unexpected  by  the  leaders  of  the 
secession  movement.  The  unanimity  of  the  people  of  that 
section  in  springing  to  arms  was  most  astonishing,  and,  if 
possible,  excelled  the  ardor  of  the  Southerners.  Blood- 
.shed  there  had  been,  too,  notwithstanding  the  predictions 
of  the  champions  of  rebellion  to  the  contrary.  The  bloody 
battle  of  Bull  Run  had  been  fought,  and,  though  resulting 
in  a  victory  over  the  National  forces,  had  carried  grief  and 
mourning  to  many  a  Southern  home,  and  had  clothed  in 
the  habiliments  of  woe  many  a  fair  daughter  of  that  sunny 
clime.  My  brother  participated  in  that  battle,  and  for  a 
long  time  after  tidings  of  the  conflict  came,  how  earnestly 
did  I  look  for  some  intelligence  from  him,  for  I  trembled 
lest  his  name,  too,  should  be  found  among  the  long  list  of 
the  slain. 

But  at  last  I  received  intelligence  from  him.  His  regi- 
ment had  been  engaged  and  had  suffered  severely;  his 
captain  had  been  killed,  and  the  command  of  the  com- 
pany having  in  consequence  devolved  upon  him,  he  had 
discharged  the  duties  of  his  trust  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
win  the  favorable  notice  of  his  colonel.  He  had  been 
recommended  for  promotion,  and  had  no  doubt  he  would 
be  commissioned  captain  in  place  of  him  who  had  fallen. 


122  AK5IE   KELLES;   OB, 

How  proud  I  was  to  have  this  intelligence  of  him;  for 
though  I  regarded  him  as  the  yictim  of  a  dreadful  delu- 
sion, still  was  he  not  my  brother,  and  should  I  not  gloiy  in 
his  braTery  and  manhood,  even  though  displayed  in  a  bad 
cause  ?  Accompanying  this  letter  was  a  list  of  the  killed 
mnd  wounded  of  our  acquaintances,  which  I  waded  through, 
shuddering  as  I  came  to  each  familiar  name,  until,  when 
the  end  was  at  last  reached,  I  felt  sick  at  heart.  Unin- 
formed and  ignorant  as  I  was  of  all  that  pertains  to  war, 
I  could  see  that  this  was  but  a  beginning,  and  trembled  as 
the  question  forced  itself  upon  me,  what  would  be  the  end, 
and  how  long  it  would  be  before  the  name  of  my  brother 
iroold  be  included  in  some  such  horrid  list  as  the  one  be- 
fore me.  I  felt  an  almost  assured  conviction  that  he  would 
&n  sooner  or  later,  and  this  thought  was  ever  present,  poi- 
soning all  my  joys,  and  investing  my  solitary  hours  with  a 
bitt^ness  almost  insupportable, 

Meantime,  the  war  went  on.  The  North  was  making 
iiie  mofli  strenuous  exertions  to  raise  and  equip  an  army 
sufficient  to  b^ir  down  all  opposition,  and  corresponding 
exertions  had  to  be  made  by  the  Southern  States  to  bring 
into  the  field  an  army  sufficient  to  cope  with  the  National 
force.  The  Southern  people  found  that  the  war  was  not 
the  mere  play-spell  they  had  anticipated,  and  the  force  of 
popular  opinion  was  no  longer  sufficient  to  raise  such  ar- 
mies as  the  exigency  demanded.  In  order,  therefore,  to 
give  new  force  to  that  popular  opinion,  the  President  of 
the  Confederacy,  about  this  time,  issued  his  famous  procla- 
mation, warning  all  persons  who  were  not  willing  to  take 
1^  arms  in  defense  of  their  country,  to  seek  a  more  con- 
genial home  in  the  North. 

This  despotic  order  struck  my  husband,  as  it  did  thou- 
sands of  others,  with  the  ntmost  consternation.     Up  to 


THE   LIFE   OP  A  BOOK  AGENT.  123 

this  time,  we  had  endeavored,  by  keeping  perfectly 
quiet  and  attending  strictly  to  our  own  affairs,  to  avoid 
offending  the  sense  of  the  community  in  which  we  lived. 
But  now  the  time  had  come  when  this  would  no  longer 
suffice.  He  must  either  go  into  the  army  and  fight  for  a 
cause  in  which  he  had  no  heart,  or  we  must  dispose  of 
what  little  property  we  had,  at  such  sacrifice  as  we  might, 
and  make  the  best  of  our  way  north  of  Mason  and  Dix- 
on's line.  The  first  was  not  to  be  thought  o^  and  the  sec- 
ond was,  therefore,  the  only  alternative  lefl:  us.  And  thus 
it  was  that  the  Southern  people  began  to  reap  the  sad  fruits 
of  the  rebellion  into  which  they  had  so  madly  and  un- 
necessarily plunged. 

We  were,  at  this  time,  in  comfortable  circumstances, 
though  far  from  being  rich,  and  we  could  ill-aflbrd  to  make 
the  sacrifice  requisite  to  comply  with  this  cruel  order.  But 
neither  time  nor  opportunity  was  afforded  for  remonstrance 
or  hesitation.  The  order  was  imperative,  and  close  upon 
its  heels  followed  a  most  rigorous  and  merciless  conscrip- 
tion, which  was  to  sweep  into  the  military  service  of  the 
Confederacy  every  man  who  had  not  complied  with  the 
other  dread  alternative  by  banishment.  How  wretchedly 
were  these  poor  people  deluded  and  imposed  upon  by  their 
designing  leaders.  Taking  up  arms  to  escape  fit)m  the 
pretended  tyranny  of  the  Government  of  the  United  States, 
they  now  found  themselves  subjects  of  a  despotism  as 
much  more  terrific  and  intolerable  than  that  from  which 
they  were  fleeing,  as  is  the  Government  of  Turkey  more 
absolute  than  the  constitutional  monarchy  of  England. 
But  these  reflections  did  not  help  our  situation  in  the 
least. 

Accordingly,  my  husband  set  to  work  to  dispose  of 
what  property  we  had  on  hand,  preparatory  to  our  emigra- 


124  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

tion  from  the  land  of  our  nativity.  In  this  matter  he  met 
with  no  little  diffiulty.  The  very  fact  that  he  was  selling 
off  his  property  to  go  North,  at  once  stamped  him  as  a 
"  disloyal  aholitionist ; "  and,  in  the  opinion  of  those  with 
whom  he  attempted  to  trade,  at  once  absolved  them  from 
all  obligations  of  honor  or  honesty  toward  him.  More 
than  this ;  he  was  met  with  gibes  and  covert  sneers  from 
those  who  regarded  him  as  less  patriotic  than  themselves, 
and  was,  on  several  occasions,  met  with  positive  insult  by 
parties  to  whom  he  applied  to  make  sales  of  property. 
He  soon  found  that  it  was  impossible  to  sell  except  at  en- 
ormous sacrifices ;  but  the  emergency  admitted  of  no  dis- 
cussion, and,  accordingly,  he  disposed  of  all  our  property 
for  about  two-thirds  of  its  real  value,  and  we  set  out  for 
Memphis,  Tennessee,  as  the  most  convenient  point  of 
egress  from  the  now  hated  Confederacy. 

During  this  time  I  had  received  several  letters  from  my 
brother.  He  was  enthusiastic  over  the  cause  in  which  he 
was  engaged,  and,  at  all  times,  expressed  the  utmost  con- 
fidence in  its  complete  and  speedy  triumph.  Although  I 
could  not  believe  that  such  would  be  the  case,  nor  wish 
well  to  an  enterprise  which,  in  my  heart  of  hearts,  I  con- 
demned, still  these  letters  were  a  source  of  constant  grat- 
ification to  me.  They  assured  me,  from  time  to  time,  of 
the  welfare  of  a  dearly  beloved  brother,  and  my  heart 
overflowed  with  gratitude  to  that  God  who  had  thus  far 
mercifully  and  kindly  protected  and  preserved  him  amid 
the  perils  of  camp-life,  and  the  dangers  of  the  battle- 
field. He  had  been  promoted  two  or  three  times,  and  at 
the  time  we  left  Atlanta  for  Memphis,  he  occupied  the 
position  of  lieutenant-colonel  in  the  same  regiment  in 
which  he  had  gone  out  as  a  mere  subaltern.  How  my 
heart  throbbed  with  a  sister's  pride  as  I  contemplated 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  125 

those  evidences  of  appreciation  of  his  merit,  let  those 
who  have  thus  watched  the  upward  and  onward  course  of 
a  loved  brother  judge.  But  to  return  to  ourselves  and  our 
journey  northward. 

My  husband  had,  of  course,  taken  the  precaution  to 
procure  passes  for  us  from  the  military  authorities  at  At- 
lanta; but,  notwithstanding  this,  we  were  frequently 
stopped  by  conscript  officers,  ourselves  and  our  passes 
closely  scrutinized,  our  baggage  searched,  time  and  again, 
for  articles  contraband  of  war ;  and,  not  content  with  an- 
noying us  by  all  legal  means  in  their  power,  these  petty 
tyrants,  in  more  instances  than  one,  added  insult  to  in- 
jury, by  stigmatizing  my  husband  as  a  traitor  and  a  cow- 
ard "for  leaving  his  country  in  her  hour  of  danger." 
Poor  fools !  They  could  not  realize  that  we  were  fleeing 
to  our  country  for  protection  from  the  persecutions,  an- 
noyances and  dangers  of  an  illegal  and  unholy  despotism, 
backed  and  supported  by  as  fierce  and  brutal  a  mob  as 
ever  thronged  the  streets  of  Paris. 

In  one  instance,  I  thought  our  journey  wa;s  to  be  sum- 
marily arrested.  Justly  incensed  at  the  overbearing  and 
insolent  manner  of  a  petty  official,  who  had  stopped  us  to 
overhaul  oilr  baggage,  and  losing  his  accustomed  control 
of  himself,  my  husband  expressed  his  opinion  of  the  con- 
temptible little  tyrant  before  us,  in  language  more  forcible 
than  polite.  This  he  chose  to  construe  into  disloyalty  to 
the  "  great  government "  of  which  he  was  the  representa- 
tive, and  Eugene  was  at  once  seized  by  a  file  of  soldiers 
and  thrown  into  prison.  They  allowed  me  no  communi- 
cation with  him,  and,  for  a  short  time,  I  was  utterly  at  a 
loss  what  to  do ;  but,  after  hesitating  a  time,  decided  to  go 
to  General  ,  who  was  in  command  there,  and  en- 
deavor to   procure   his   release.     The   general    listened 


126  .       ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

kindly  and  courteously,  to  my  story,  and  after  asking  me 
a  few  questions,  gave  me  an  order  for  his  immediate  re- 
lease. Armed  with  this  missive  I  flew  to  the  prison,  and 
in  a  short  time  we  were  again  on  our  journey.  I  shall 
always  retain  a  most  grateful  remembrance  of  General 
,  for  his  kindness  to  me  under  these  trying  circum- 
stances. 

In  due  time  we  arrived  at  Memphis,  which  was  then  in 
possession  of  the  Confederate  forces,  but  which  was  in- 
vested by  the  land  and  naval  forces  of  the  Union,  within 
a  day  or  two  after  our  arrival.  And  there  I  first  wit- 
nessed the  actual  horrors  of  war.  It  was  in  Memphis 
that  I  first  heard  the  sound  of  hostile  guns,  the  scream- 
ing of  shot  and  shell,  the  bursting  of  bombs,  and  all  the 
horrid  sounds  which  accompany  the  destruction  of  human 
life  on  the  field  of  battle.  Here,  too,  I  first  saw  wounded 
men,  and  my  brain  turned  with  horror  as  I  beheld  the 
mangled  and  bleeding  forms  of  those  who  had  once  been 
stout,  healthy,  and  vigorous  men;  and  as  their  piteous 
moans  smote  upon  my  ears  I  shuddered,  in  every  fiber  of 
my  frame,  and  hastened  to  convey  myself  beyond  sight 
and  hearing  of  these  sickening  objects. 

Of  course,  under  the  present  state  of  affairs,  it  was  im- 
possible for  us  to  get  any  further  North,  and  we  remained 
in  Memphis  until  the  surrender  of  that  place  to  the  national 
forces,  when  we  procured  passes  and  transportation  for 
Cincinnati,  where  we  arrived  without  farther  incident. 
And  now,  for  the  first  time  since  the  promulgation  of  the 
order  before  referred  to,  we  could  feel  that  we  were  free. 
Once  more  I  could  lie  down  to  rest  at  night  and  feel  as- 
sured that  my  husband  would  not,  before  morning,  be  torn 
from  my  arms  by  merciless  conscript  officers,  and  hurried 
into  the  army  which  was  using  all  its  energies  for  the  de- 


THE    LIFE    OF    A   BOOK   AGENT.  127 

struction  of  the  Government  which  now  sheltered  us  be- 
neath its  protecting  wings. 

Our  stay  in  Cincinnati  was  of  short  duration.  We  were 
among  strangers,  and  Eugene  did  not  readily  find  any  av- 
enue of  business  open  to  him,  and  we  could  not  live  with- 
out doing  something.  Having  heard  there  was  a  good 
opening  at  London,  Canada  West,  Eugene  decided  that  the 
best  thing  we  could  do  was  to  go  there ;  and,  accordingly, 
we  went  there,  after  having  staid  in  Cincinnati  but  about 
three  weeks.  Our  journey  to  that  place  was  unattended 
with  any  incidents  worthy  of  record,  or  in  any  degree  in- 
teresting to  my  readers.  I  may  remark,  however,  that,  on 
our  journey  through  Ohio,  I  was  forcibly  struck  with  the 
vast  superiority  of  the  country  over  anything  I  had  ever 
seen  in  the  South,  in  point  of  improvement  and  advance- 
ment of  every  kind.  Large,  well-cultivated  farms  bounded 
the  prospect  on  every  hand;  while  the  comfortable,  and 
often  elegant,  residences  of  their  owners  gave  the  very 
highest  evidence  of  thrift  and  prosperity.  Every  little 
town,  too,  boasted  its  manufacturing  establishments ;  all  of 
which  were  now  stimulated  to  the  highest  degree  of  activ- 
ity by  the  demand  for  supplies  of  all  kinds  for  the  use  of 
the  army.  I  was  immeasurably  astonished  at  the  little  de- 
rangement produced  here  by  the  war,  as  compared  with 
the  Southern  States.  Here  business  of  all  kinds  was  flow- 
ing in  its  accustomed  channels,  with,  perhaps,  greater 
briskness  than  before  the  war ;  while  there,  everything  was 
almost  at  a  stand-still,  and  a  sense  of  uneasiness  and  distrust 
seemed  to  pervade  the  entire  community.  I  wondered, 
then,  at  this  difference,  but  have  since  ceased  to  feel  any 
surprise  at  it. 

Upon  reaching  our  destination  my  husband  went  at  once 
into  business,  and,  for  a  time,  prospered  finely.  Money 
9 


128  AiNNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

was  plenty,  and,  as  Eugene  was  a  good  financier,  we  were 
soon  on  the  fair  road  to  comfort,  if  not  to  wealth.  But  the 
climate  was  so  much  colder  than  we  had  been  accustomed 
to,  that  we  were  far  from  contented.  Born  and  reared  be- 
neath the  sunny  skies  of  the  South,  we  were  illy  prepared 
to  endure  the  rigors  of  a  Canada  winter,  and  decided  to 
return  to  the  United  States ;  and  we  were  strengthened  in 
our  determination  by  the  fact  that  Willie,  who  had  always 
been  rather  delicate,  was  attacked  with  a  severe  cough, 
which  we — whether  justly  or  otherwise,  I  know  not — at- 
tributed to  the  cold  and  damp  climate  of  that  locality. 
Accordingly,  my  husband,  in  the  fall  of  1862,  disposed  of 
what  property  we  had  there,  and  w^e  returned  to  Cincinnati. 
I  ought  to  remark  here  that,  while  in  Canada,  I  received 
letters  from  my  brother — the  first  intelligence  I  had  had 
from  him  directly  since  we  left  Atlanta,  and  the  last  I  was 
ever  destined  to  receive.  Henceforth  the  fate  of  war  sep- 
arated us  as  completely  from  each  other,  and  as  entirely 
destroyed  our  communication  with  each  other,  as  was  af- 
terward done  by  his  death,  which  occurred  in  front  of  At- 
lanta, during  the  campaign  of  1864.  At  this  time,  how- 
ever, he  was  w^ell,  and  was  still  on  the  high  road  to  prefer- 
ment. He  had  been  several  times  promoted  since  I  had 
heard  from  him,  and  was  now  gracing  the  position  of  a 
brigadier-general.  He  was  as  ardent  in  the  cause  of 
Southern  independence  as  ever,  and  was  still  just  as  con- 
fident of  ultimate  success  as  when  he  marched  from  At- 
lanta in  the  comparatively  humble  position  of  a  first  lieu- 
tenant ;  at  least,  so  he  stated  in  his  letters.  But  I  fancied 
that  I  detected  in  his  language  a  sort  of  undercurrent  of 
despondency  which  induced  me  to  think  that,  perhaps, 
after  all,  he  was  not  as  hopeful  as  he  tried  to  induce  me 
to  believe. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  129 

But,  be  that  as  it  might,  I  could  not  but  feel  proud  of 
the  record  of  gallantry  he  was  making  for  himself  How 
much  better  pleased  I  should  have  been  had  this  record 
been  made  in  behalf  of  the  Government,  instead  of  against 
it,  may  easily  be  imagined ;  but  still  we  are  constrained  to 
admire  bravery  wherever  we  see  it,  even  though  it  be  in  a 
bad  cause.  How  natural,  then,  was  it  that  I  should  be 
proud  of  the  evidences  of  merit  displayed  by  my  only 
brother,  and  should  rejoice  with  all  my  heart  to  hear  of 
these  successive  promotions.  But,  alas!  how  short-lived 
are  the  honors  and  pleasures  of  this  life.  Two  years  later, 
my  poor  brother  was  buried  by  strange  hands,  in  an  un- 
known grave,  while  no  friend  or  sister  near  him,  in  his  last 
hour,  listened  to  his  dying  words,  or  wiped  the  death-damps 
from  his  pale  brow  as  he  breathed  forth  his  parting  sigh. 


130  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 


CHAPTER   X. 

I  HAVE  said  that  we  returned  to  Cincinnati  in  the  fall 
of  1862.  This  time  my  husband  was  more  fortunate  in 
getting  into  business  than  when  we  were  here  before ;  an 
opening  was  soon  found,  and  we  took  rooms  at  the  Spen- 
cer House.  My  health  was  so  poor,  by  reason  of  the  ex- 
citement we  had  undergone  for  some  time,  and  I  was  so 
much  worn  out  by  the  constant  changes  and  journeyings 
of  the  last  year,  that  I  did  not  feel  equal  to  the  task  of 
undertaking  the  management  of  a  house ;  and  hence  our 
determination  to  board  for  a  time,  until  I  should  become 
somewhat  improved  in  vigor. 

For  the  next  few  weeks  we  were  very  happy.  My  hus- 
band had  entirely  quit  drinking,  and  spent  all  his  evenings 
at  home  with  me ;  my  children  were  in  good  health,  and 
were  four  of  the  sweetest  little  cherubs  to  be  found  any- 
where ;  they  gave  me  very  little  care  or  trouble.  Save 
some  anxiety  on  my  brother's  account,  my  mind  knew  not 
a  single  burden.  The  children  had  forgotten  all  about 
their  mother,  and  did  not  seem  to  know  that  I  was  not 
their  maternal  parent,  and,  on  my  own  part,  I  loved  them  as 
if  they  had  been  my  own.  My  husband  was  as  Idnd  and 
considerate  to  me  as  it  was  possible  for  any  one  to  be ; 
my  every  want  was  supplied,  and  I  almost  forgot  that  I  had 
ever  been  unhappy. 

But,  alas !  my  happiness  was  not  to  last  long.  A  blow 
from  a  new  and  unexpected  quarter  was  impending  over 
me,  and  was  destined  soon  to  shatter  into  atoms  forever  the 
frail  fabric  of  bliss  which  now  surrounded  me ;  to  cast  me 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  131 

down  from  the  pinnacle  of  happiness,  upon  which  I  then 
rested,  into  the  very  lowest  depths  of  an  abyss  of  misery 
and  wretchedness  so  profound  that  I  shudder  when  I  think 
of  it.  The  time  for  the  revelation  of  that  fatal  secret  of 
my  husband's,  to  which  allusion  has  already  been  made, 
was  fast  approaching,  and  yet  I  suspected  it  not.  Like 
Damocles  at  the  festival,  when  the  sword  was  suspended 
by  a  single  hair  over  his  head,  I  reveled  in  the  enjoyment 
of  the  bliss  presented  to  me,  all  unsuspicious  of  danger, 
and  never  dreaming  that  my  happiness  could  be  brought 
to  an  end.  Then,  how  terrible  the  shock  when  it  did  come, 
and  with  what  crushing  force  the  blow  fell  upon  my  sud- 
denly-blighted spirit,  let  the  reader  imagine;  for  any 
words  of  mine  are  utterly  incapable  of  describing. 

Early  one  evening  I  was  alone  in  our  sitting-room.  The 
children  were  all  in  bed,  and  my  husband  had  not  yet  come 
in,  though  I  was  momentarily  expecting  him.  There  came 
a  gentle  tap  at  the  door,  and  one  of  the  boys  employed 
about  the  house  came  in  with  a  card,  which  he  handed  me, 
with  a  polite  bow.  I  looked  at  the  card — the  name  was 
a  strange  one  to  me — it  was  Mrs.  Martha  H.  Mason,  a  name 
I  had  never  heard  before,  nor  could  I  imagine  w^ho  she 
could  be,  or  what  should  induce  her  to  call  upon  me.  To 
my  look  of  surprised  inquiry,  the  boy  answered  that  the 
lady  who  gave  him  the  card  wished  to  see  me  in  the  par- 
lor. In  an  instant  I  was  struck  with  an  undefinable  dread 
of  some  approaching  evil,  but  what  it  was  I  could  not  for 
a  moment  imagine.  Who  could  she  be,  and  why  had  she 
come  to  seek  me  ?  Her  summons  certainly  boded  me  no 
good,  and  I  felt  sure  some  deep  calamity  was  in  store  for 
me,  but  what  it  was  I  could  not  divine.  I  grew  weak,  and 
felt  myself  turn  pale  as  these  thoughts,  in  an  instant, 
flashed  through  my  mind;  but  I  retained  sufficient  strength 


132  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

and  control  of  myself  to  tell  the  boy  I  would  be  down  in 
a  few  moments,  when  he  bowed  and  withdrew. 

After  he  was  gone  I  sunk  back  into  my  seat  and  tried 
to  collect  my  somewhat  scattered  thoughts.  I  ran  over, 
in  my  mind,  all  the  names  with  which  I  was  acquainted 
and  could  call  to  mind,  and  all  I  remembered  to  have  heard 
my  husband  mention,  but  could  not  think  who  Martha  H. 
Mason  was.  What  would  I  not  have  given  at  that  mo- 
ment for  my  husband's  presence  and  counsel,  and  at  first 
I  thought  of  waiting  until  he  came  in,  before  according 
the  desired  interview.  But  no ;  that  would  not  do.  Per- 
haps it  was  something  which  affected  his  honor,  in  which 
case  it  were  better  for  both  that  I  should  know  the  whole 
truth  before  seeing  him.  I  did  not  for  a  moment  imagine, 
that  it  was  anything  which  would  prove  him  to  be  guilty 
of  actual  crime  against  the  laws  of  God  and  man ;  and  the 
conclusion  at  which  my  mind  finally  arrived  was,  that  it 
was  Carrie's  mother,  and  that  she  had  come  to  reclaim  her 
child.  But  let  the  cause  of  her  coming  be  what  it  might, 
or  whoever  she  might  be,  I  must  see  her  and  know  the 
worst. 

Accordingly,  after  making  some  slight  changes  in  my 
dress,  I  went  down  into  the  parlor.  There  sat  a  lady, 
dressed  in  deep  mourning;  and  the  first  glance  at  her 
pale,  sweet  face  told  me  I  had  never  seen  her  before. 
Her  age  was  not  far  from  thirty,  as  near  as  I  could  judge; 
and,  despite  the  evident  marks  of  care  and  suffering 
which  her  countenance  displayed,  she  was  surpassingly 
beautiful.  She  rose,  as  I  entered  the  parlor,  and  timidly 
approached  me.  In  a  low,  and  finely-modulated  voice, 
she  asked: 

"  Are  you  Mrs.  Eugene  Giles  ?  " 

"  I  am,"  I  answered.     What  do  you  wish  with  me  ?  " 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  133 

"  Are  you  Mr.  Giles'  first  wife ;  or  was  he  married 
before?" 

"  I  am  his  second  wife.  His  first  wife  died  some  six 
years,  or  more,  since.  We  were  married  in  about  seven 
months  from  the  time  of  her  death." 

"  Had  he  any  children  by  his  first  wife  ?  " 

"  He  had  three  ;  all  boys.  But  may  I  inquire  why  you 
ask  all  these  questions  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  soon.  May  I  ask  the  names  of  these 
boys  ?  " 

"  The  eldest  one's  name  is  Willie — he  is  fourteen  years 
old.  The  second  is  Frankie,  aged  eleven  years ;  and  the 
youngest  is  Eddie,  aged  about  nine.  Do  you  know  Mr. 
Giles,  or  why  are  you  so  particular  in  your  inquiries  about 
him  and  his  family  ?  " 

At  this  question  her  entire  manner  changed,  and  she 
answered,  almost  fiercely : 

"  Do  I  know  him  ?  Yes ;  far  better  than  you  do. 
Look  at  this!"  and  she  handed  me  an  ambrotype-case. 
I  opened  it,  and  found  it  to  contain  two  likenesses — a 
young  man  and  young  woman.  In  an  instant  I  recog- 
nized them:  the  young  man  was  my  husband,  and  the 
young  woman  was  the  lady  before  me.  Who  was  she, 
and  what  could  it  all  mean?  As  I  asked  her  these  ques- 
tions she  handed  me  a  written  paper  and  bade  me  read  it. 
My  husband  had  not  kept  up  the  lessons  he  began  with 
me,  and  it  was  with  some  difficulty  that  I  could  read  it ; 
but  I  made  out  that  it  was  a  certificate  of  the  marriage  of 
Eugene  Giles  Mason  and  Martha  Hart.  As  the  fearful 
import  of  this  document  thrilled  through  my  brain,  I  was 
nearly  wild  with  anguish.  Could  it  be  that  this  woman 
was  his  lawful  wife,  the  mother  of  his  children  ?  Oh !  no. 
Eugene  could  not  be  such  a  villain.     Perhaps  she  was 


134  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

his  wife's  sister ;  and  there  was  so  much  resemblance  be- 
tween them  that  I  had  mistaken  the  likeness  for  her's. 
I  turned  to  her  to  ask  an  explanation.  She  was  weeping 
silently  but  bitterly. 

"  Who  are  you,"  said  I,  "  and  what  is  all  this  to  me  ? 
What  have  I,  the  wife  of  Eugene  Giles,  to  do  with  the 
marriage  of  Eugene  Mason  and  Martha  Hart  ?  " 

"  The  man  who  now  calls  himself  Eugene  Giles,"  said 
she,  speaking  slowly  and  bitterly,  "is  no  other  than  Eu- 
gene Giles  Mason,  and  I  am  Martha  Hart  Mason,  his  law- 
ful wife,  the  mother  of  the  three  boys  whose  names  you 
have  just  given  me.     Is  this  nothing  to  you  ?  " 

Had  a  two-edged  sword  at  that  moment  pierced  my 
heart,  I  could  not  have  suffered  half  the  agony  I  endured 
as  she  pronounced  these  fatal  words. 

"This  can  not,  can  not  be,"  I  cried,  in  my  anguish. 
"  Eugene  would  never  be  so  base.  Beside,  he  told  me  his 
first  wife  was  dead.    Oh !  take  back  those  cruel  words." 

"It  is  all  true  that  I  have  told  you,"  said  she.  "I 
have  other  proofs  of  the  truth  of  my  statements.  Will 
you  look  at  them  ?  " 

Alas !  there  was  no  need.  I  felt  that  her  words  were 
true,  and  that  Eugene  was  not  my  husband;  and  the 
thought  of  my  situation,  in  an  instant,  flashed  upon  me. 

"If  all  that  you  have  been  telling  me  is  true — if  Eugene 
is  not  my  husband — if  you  are  his  wife,  my  God,  what 
am  I  ?  "  I  cried  out,  and  sunk  to  the  floor. 

I  had  not  fainted,  for  I  could  hear  and  see  everything 
that  was  said  or  done  in  the  room,  and  my  mind  seemed 
imbued  with  unnatural  activity,  but  the  suddenness  and 
violence  of  the  shock  had  deprived  me  of  all  physical 
vitality,  and  I  was  powerless  to  rise  from  the  floor,  I 
could  not  move  or  speak.     The  last,  words  I  had  uttered 


IF  YOU  ARE  HIS  WIFE,  WHAT  AM  I?" 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  135 

were  ringing  in  my  brain.  If  she  was  his  wife,  what  w^as 
I  ?  I  was  only  his  mistress,  and  had  been  such  for  these 
many  long  years.  Could  it  be  so  ?  Was  it  possible  that 
my  husband's  real  name  was  Mason,  and  that  he  was  the 
base  and  unprincipled  villain  that  her  words  would  indi- 
cate ?  Oh  !  no ;  it  could  not  be.  Eugene  would  never, 
never,  never  have  wronged  me  thus.  There  must  be  some 
terrible  mistake  here.  His  wife  was  surely  dead,  and  our 
marriage  was  lawful.  This  woman  was  some  base  adven- 
turess who  had,  by  some  means,  possessed  herself  of  his 
marriage  certificate,  and  was  now  using  it  for  some  pur- 
pose of  her  own.  Or,  more  likely,  it  was  some  one  else's 
marriage  certificate,  which  she  was  trying  to  fasten  upon 
my  husband.  But,  then,  those  likenesses — what  could  they 
mean  ?  But  I  could  not,  would  not  believe  Eugene  was 
so  base.     Were  he  here,  he  could  explain  all. 

While  these  thoughts  ran  riot  through  my  brain,  I  lay 
helpless  and  motionless  on  the  floor,  and  the  woman  who 
had  been  the  cause  of  all  this  misery,  sat  staring  at  me 
with  her  great,  black  eyes,  until  they  seemed  to  burn  and 
sear  into  my  brain.  I  could  not  remove  my  eyes  from 
her  face,  nor  could  I  speak.  I  had  never  been  so  com- 
pletely prostrated  and  unnerved  as  I  was  by  this  terrible 
revelation,  and  did  not  care  whether  I  ever  moved  or  spoke 
again.  At  length  she  arose  and  came  to  my  side.  She 
knelt  down  by  me  and  spoke  substantially  as  follows, 
while  she  rested  her  hand  kindly  upon  my  head : 

"Poor  child;  I  do  not  blame  you  in  the  least  for  this 
terrible  affair.  No ;  you  are  innocent,  and  have  been  the 
victim  of  the  most  grievous  wrong,  as*  well  as  myself.  My 
husband  left  me  when  I  was  confine^  with  my  fifth  child, 
little  Eddie.  He  stole  my  babe,  only  a  week  old,  and  my 
two  little  boys,  and  left  me  with  two  little  girls.     He  has 


136  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

now  been  gone  for  more  than  eight  years,  and,  during  all 
that  long  and  weary  time,  I  have  been  traveling  in  search 
of  him.  I  have  roamed  from  place  to  place,  throughout 
the  whole  of  the  United  States,  with  no  other  object  but 
to  find  my  darling  babes.  No  doubt  the  heartless  monster 
thought  I  was  dead  when  he  married  you.  He  naturally 
thought  that  the  loss  of  my  children,  in  my  enfeebled  con- 
dition, would  be  too  much  for  me,  and  that  the  shock  would 
kill  me.  But,  thank  God,  I  have  disappointed  him.  I 
have  been  wonderfully  spared  and  preserved,  and  high 
heaven  has  kindly  answered  my  prayer  and  guided  me  to 
him — and  once  more  I  shall  possess  my  darling  children, 
once  more  I  shall  press  them  to  the  lonely  heart  which 
for  years  has  mourned  and  sighed  for  them.  But  I  pity 
rather  than  blame  you.  You  have  been  most  grievously 
wronged  as  well  as  myself,  and  I  would  not  harm  a  hair 
of  your  head :  all  I  ask  is  the  possession  of  my  babes,  and 
vengeance  upon  the  heartless  wretch  who  has  deceived 
and  betrayed  us  both.  Where  are  my  precious  darlings  ? 
I  long  to  see  them  and  clasp  them  to  my  heart  once 
more." 

She  pronounced  these  last  words  with  a  vehemence  and 
energy  which  indicated  the  depth  of  her  feeling  upon  this 
subject.  I  strove  to  reply  to  her  eager  question,  but  my 
tongue  refused  to  obey  the  mandates  of  my  will,  and  I  re- 
mained silent.  She  gazed  at  me  a  moment,  then  sprung 
to  her  feet  and  rung  the  bell  with  the  utmost  violence, 
and  then  turned  to  raise  me  and  place  me  on  the  sofa. 
She  had  barely  accomplished  her  task  when  the  proprie- 
tor of  the  house  made  his  appearance,  and,  in  an  eager 
and  excited  manner,  she  demanded  to  be  shown  to  Mr. 
Giles'  room.  Probably  he  did  not  observe  me  lying  on 
the  sofa,  or  he  would  have  known  there  was  something 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  137 

wrong;  but  he  proceeded  at  once  to  comply  with  her  de- 
mand, and  they  left  the  room. 

I  strove  to  rise  and  follow  them,  but  I  was  completely 
paralyzed  by  the  horrid  events  of  the  last  hour,  and  my 
limbs  totally  refused  to  obey  my  volition.  I  then  tried  to 
speak,  to  call  out  and  attract  their  attention,  but  was 
powerless  even  to  move  my  tongue.  I  would  have  given 
anything  to  have  witnessed  the  meeting  between  her  and 
Giles,  and  to  have  heard  him  defend  himself  against  her 
accusation,  for  I  still  half  believed  there  was  some  terrible 
misunderstanding,  and  that  he  could  explain  it  all  satis- 
factorily. Although  I  was  satisfied  she  had  once  been  his 
wife,  my  faith  in  him  was  so  strong  that  I  believed  he 
would  be  able  to  explain  away  the  horrible  tale  she  had 
unfolded  to  me.  And  now,  for  the  first  time,  occurred  to 
me  the  thought  that  they  might  have  been  divorced,  and 
Eugene  might  still  be  innocent  of  any  wrong.  But,  then, 
why  should  he  have  told  me  she  was  dead  ? 

These  thoughts  all  passed  through  my  brain,  and  then 
came  the  reflection  that  it  mattered  very  little  to  me  whether 
her  story  was  true  or  false.  I  felt  that  I  should  never  re- 
cover fi-om  the  horrible  paralysis  into  which  these  astound- 
ing revelations  had  thrown  me.  I  knew  that,  in  the  sight 
of  God,  I  was  innocent  of  any  wrong;  and  if  I  was  to  die, 
what  matter  whether  my  association  with  Giles  was  legal 
or  not  ?  Immorality,  on  my  part,  I  knew  there  was  none ; 
and  as  long  as  my  soul  was  pure  and  uncontaminated,  what 
mattered  it  that  I  had  sustained  toward  him  a  station  not 
sanctioned  by  the  laws  of  God  or  man  ?  I  knew  that  I  was 
innocent  in  the  sight  of  high  heaven,  and  I  could  well  af- 
ford that  the  scorn  of  those  who  thought  themselves  better 
than  I,  should  be  visited  upon  my  memory  after  my  spirit 


138 

had  taken  its  everlasting  flight  to  the  bosom  of  my  heav- 
enly Maker. 

For  a  long  time  I  lay  alone  in  the  room.  No  one  came, 
and  I  was  utterly  unable  to  help  myself  in  any  way,  or  to 
give  any  alarm  or  make  my  wants  known.  It  seemed  to 
me  an  age — I  suppose  it  was  about  half  an  hour,  but  it 
seemed  much  longer — before  any  one  made  their  appear- 
ance, and  then  Giles  came  into  the  room.  He  came  and 
knelt  by  my  side,  clasped  me  in  his  arms,  and  called  me 
all  the  pet  names  which  had  been  so  dear  to  me  in  our  hap- 
pier days,  and  implored  me  to  forgive  him;  told  me  that  he 
loved  me  better  than  his  own  life,  and  could  not  give  me 
up,  and  begged  me  to  speak  to  him  again.  I  tried  to  speak, 
but  the  terrible  paralysis  still  held  my  tongue,  and  I  was 
unable  to  utter  a  word.  Meanwhile  he  continued  his 
demonstrations  of  affection,  and  the  most  passionate  en- 
treaties for  just  one  word  to  assure  him  of  my  forgiveness. 
He  did  not  deny  that  he  had  wronged  me  beyond  redress, 
or  that  the  woman  was  his  lawful  wife ;  he  did  not  dispute 
the  truth  of  her  horrible  revelation ;  but  he  urged  his  un- 
bounded and  uncontrollable  love  for  me,  in  extenuation  of 
his  folly  and  his  guilt.  And  all  this  time  I  lay  unable  to 
move  or  speak. 

Eugene  finally  observed  my  situation,  and,  starting  sud- 
denly to  his  feet,  he  hastily  left  the  room.  He  was  gone 
but  a  few  moments,,  when  he  came  in,  as  hastily  as  he  had 
gone  out,  accompanied  by  a  physician,  whose  name  was 
Wood.  He  brought  the  doctor  to  my  side,  and,  in  the 
most  frantic  manner,  implored  him  to  save  me  if  within 
his  power. 

The  doctor  took  hold  of  my  arm,  felt  my  pulse,  placed 
his  hand  upon  my  forehead  for  a  moment,  then  put  his  ear 
down  to  my  heartbeat,  and,  without  speaking  a  word,  took  a 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  139 

lancet  from  his  pocket  and  struck  it  into  my  arm.  The 
blood  did  not  start  readily,  and  he  held  hartshorn  to  my 
nostrils  for  a  short  time,  which  had  the  effect  of  starting 
the  crimson  current  in  a  steady,  vigorous  stream.  The 
flow  of  blood  loosened  my  paralyzed  tongue,  and,  in  a  low 
voice  (for  my  strength  was  all  gone),  I  asked  the  doctor  to 
leave  the  room.  I  wanted  to  talk  with  Eugene,  and  hear 
from  his  own  lips  the  confirmation  or  denial  of  the  awful 
revelation  which  had  had  such  a  terrible  effect  upon  me. 
But  the  man  of  physic  replied  that  my  situation  was  ex- 
tremely critical,  that  my  life  was  in  serious  danger,  and 
that  he  could  not  leave  until  I  was  better.  However,  he 
asked  no  questions  as  to  the  cause  of  my  sudden  and  vio- 
lent illness.  Doubtless  his  science  revealed  to  him  the 
fact  that  some  tremendous  excitement  was  the  moving 
cause;  but  he  said  nothing  in  relation  to  his  suspicions, 
whatever  they  may  have  been,  but  steadily  and  carefully 
he  attended  to  his  business  until  my  arm  was  bandaged, 
when  he  took  his  leave — having  first  left  some  remedies  to 
calm  my  terrible  nervous  excitement  and  reinvigorate  my 
feeble  frame. 

As  soon  as  we  were  once  more  alone,  Eugene,  at  my  re- 
quest, came  and  sat  down  by  my  side. 

"Eugene,"  said  I,  "as  you  value  your  soul  and  your 
eternal  happiness,  tell  me  the  whole  truth  relative  to  this 
sad,  sad  affair.     Is  this  woman  your  wife  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Annie,"  he  replied,  "  she  is  my  wife — ^the  mother 
of  my  three  boys." 

How  the  light  of  hope  went  out  in  my  bosom  as  I  lis- 
tened to  this  confession,  uttered  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  and 
with  half-averted  head.  Up  to  this  time  I  had  hoped,  not- 
withstanding the  solemn  asseverations  of  the  woman,  that 
he  would  deny  it,  and  that  I  would  be  spared  the  shame 


140 

and  mortification  which  were  now  my  lot.  My  faith  in 
him  had  whispered  that  either  her  tale  was  a  fabrication, 
or  she  was  the  victim  of  some  dreadful  hallucination.  But 
when  he  answered  me  as  he  did,  this  last  lingering  ray  of 
hope  faded  out,  and,  with  a  deep  groan,  I  sunk  back  upon 
my  pillow,  from  which,  in  my  excitement,  I  had  half  risen 
to  propound  my  eager  inquiry. 

"  Oh !  Eugene,"  said  I,  "  how  could  you  treat  me  as  you 
have  ?  Why  should  you  have  done  me  this  grievous 
wrong  ?  " 

"  God  is  my  witness,"  he  replied,  "  that  when  I  married 
you  I  thought  she  was  dead.  Believe  me,  Annie,  for  He 
knows  I  speak  the  truth  when  I  say  that  the  thought  of 
wrong  toward  you  never  entered  my  mind." 

"  But  I  am  not  your  wife,  and  we  must  part." 

"No,  Annie,  you  are  not  my  wife,  but  I  love  you  as  I 
ever  have  since  I  first  saw  you,  and  I  can  not  part  from 
you.     I  will  never  give  you  up." 

"You  must  not  talk  so  to  me.  If  we  have  ignorantly 
done  evil  during  all  these  years,  let  us  not  continue  it  now 
that  we  know  the  wrong.  Henceforth  we  will  be  nothing 
to  each  other." 

"  Oh !  Annie,  say  not  so.  You  are  the  only  woman  I 
ever  loved,  and  I  can  not  live  without  you.  Mine  you 
must  be  forever." 

"What!  would  you  give  up  your  children  for  me?" 

"Yes,  every  thing  I  have  in  the  world.  I  will  give  up 
children,  wife,  property — every  thing  but  you — ^you  I  can 
not." 

"Oh!  Eugene,  how  can  you  talk  of  giving  up  those 
lovely  children  ?  It  will  almost  break  my  heart  to  part 
with  them,  and  they  are  not  mine.  How  then,  can  you 
talk  so?" 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  141 

"Annie,  I  love  you  enough  to  give  up  everything  for 
you.  I  never  knew  happiness  until  I  met  you,  and  if  you 
leave  me  I  can  never  know  happiness  again.  I  can  be 
happy  with  you,  but  with  that  woman,  never." 

"Where  is  she?"  I  asked. 

"  She  is  up  in  our  room  with  the  children.  They  were 
afraid  of  her,  and  she  was  trying  to  conciliate  them  by 
telling  them  she  was  their  mother,  and  endeavoring  to 
persuade  them  to  go  and  live  with  her.  But  they  would 
not  believe  her.  They  told  her  their  'ma  was  down  in  the 
parlor — that  she  had  gone  there  to  see  a  lady  who  called 
for  her.  But  she  will  succeed  in  convincing  them — they 
will  go  with  her,  and  she  may  have  them  if  she  will  only 
go  away  and  let  us  alone." 

"  Eugene,  you  must  not  talk  so,"  I  replied  as  firmly  as 
I  could,  although  it  cost  me  a  terrible  effort,  "we  were 
happy  in  each  other's  society  because  we  supposed  we 
were  innocent,  and  without  innocence  there  can  be  no  real 
happiness.  Let  us  not,  then,  forever  destroy  our  happi- 
ness and  stain  our  souls  with  the  guilt  of  doing  wrong 
with  our  eyes  open." 

But  all  I  could  say  was  of  no  avail.  He  still  insisted 
that  he  could  not  and  would  not  part  with  me;  and,  at 
length,  worn  out  with  conflicting  emotions,  and  with  the 
terrible  excitement  of  the  scenes  through  which  I  had 
passed,  I  ceased  to  contend  any  longer.  He  continued 
to  talk  for  some  time  after  I  had  become  silent,  when 
thinking,  perhaps,  that  I  needed  rest,  he,  too,  subsided 
into  silence  and  allowed  me  to  indulge  my  own  sad 
thoughts. 

And  sad  and  gloomy  indeed  they  were.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  awful  strain  which  had  just  been  imposed  upon 
my  mental  faculties,  my  mind  was  comparatively  clear, 


142 

and  my  first  thought  was  for  Carrie.  What  would  become 
of  her  ?  For  the  reader  will  readily  conceive  that,  though 
I  had  ceased  to  contend  with  Eugene  about  the  matter,  I 
had  no  idea  of  remaining  with  him  after  the  dreadful  ex- 
pose that  had  taken  place.  I  only  ceased  to  contend  with 
him  because  it  was  useless  to  do  so,  and  because  he  re- 
fused to  be  convinced  of  the  sin  that  lay  in  the  course  he 
advocated.  What,  then,  would  become  of  Carrie  ?  Should 
I  take  her  with  me,  or  leave  her  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
that  dreadful  woman  ?  This,  it  seemed  to  me,  I  could  not 
do.  It  is  true,  she  was  no  relation  to  me,  but  she  was  a 
lovely  child,  and  I  loved  her  almost  as  my  own.  Ah !  yes, 
my  own.  How  I  thanked  the  God  of  high  Heaven,  then, 
that  he  had  seen  fit  to  take  my  own  little  girl  to  Himself 
in  the  bright  days  of  infancy,  before  her  pure  spirit  had 
been  blighted  and  sullied  by  contact  with  this  sinful  world. 
Let  not  the  reader  shudder,  or  think  me  inhuman,  that  this 
thought  found  a  lodgment  in  my  breast.  Nothing  but  my 
overwhelming  love  for  my  offspring  gave  birth  to  the  idea. 
What  would  have  been  her  fate  had  she  lived  to  adult  age  ? 

Of  illegitimate  birth — born  to  an  heritage  of  shame  and 
disgrace — a  mark  for  the  finger  of  scorn  and  contumely — 
who  can  ever  guess  to  what  depths  of  sin,  and  degrada- 
tion, and  shame,  the  dark  cloud  which  would  have  rested 
upon  her  during  the  whole  of  her  life  might  have  driven 
her  ?  Yes,  it  was  far  better  for  her  as  it  was ;  and  in  pure 
singleness  of  heart,  and  actuated  by  naught  but  the  most 
exalted  love  for  her,  I  blessed  God  that  she  had  died  upon 
the  very  threshhold  of  life. 

Then  my  thoughts  turned  to  my  own  future,  and,  look 
which  way  I  would,  nothing  was  presented  but  black  mis- 
ery, shame  and  despair.  Who,  and  what  was  I?  The 
mistress  of  a  married  man ;  and  for  long  years  I  had  been 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  143 

living  in  a  state  of  adultery  with  him.  True  I  was  inno- 
cent of  any  intentional  wrong,  but,  nevertheless,  the  black 
and  damning  fact  stared  me  in  the  face,  and  would  not 
down  at  my  bidding.  And  what  had  I  to  hope  or  antici- 
pate ?  Alone,  aye,  doubly  alone  in  the  wide  world  —  my 
brother  Frank,  my  only  living  relative,  far  away  and,  per- 
haps, wounded  or  dying  on  some  battle-field,  perhaps 
already  dead — no  one  to  care  or  provide  for  me,  and  ut- 
terly unfitted  by  my  education  to  earn  a  livelihood — with 
the  dark  stain  of  the  past  resting  upon  me  and  clouding 
my  fair  name — what  wonder  that  I  groaned  in  spirit,  and 
even  questioned  the  goodness  of  the  Almighty  in  his  dis- 
pensations toward  me  ?  What  wonder  that  my  bowed 
and  crushed  heart  cried  out  in  bitterest  anguish,  "  My  bur- 
den is  greater  than  I  can  bear  ?  Oh  !  Thou  Eternal  God, 
what  have  I  done  that  I  should  be  so  much  afflicted 
above  all  the  children  of  men?  Why  is  my  pathway 
strewn  only  with  thorns,  and  why  dost  Thou  utterly  with- 
draw thy  face  from  me  ?"  And  then,  anon,  my  spirit  be- 
came more  calm,  and  I  fervently  prayed  for  strength  and 
grace  to  conquer  and  overcome  all  ills  that  beset  me.  Ah ! 
how  I  shudder  even  to  this  day  as  memory  recalls  the 
events  of  that  terrible  night. 

At  length  I  became  more  calm,  and  with  returning 
strength  came  the  desire  to  go  to  some  other  room,  where 
I  would  be  less  exposed  to  observation  than  in  the  public 
parlor  of  the  hotel.  Accordingly  Eugene  called  for  an- 
other room,  and  obtained  the  key  of  one  adjoining  the 
parlor,  and  with  his  assistance  I  got  into  it  and  lay  down 
on  the  bed.  He  urged  me  to  undress,  but  I  would  not, 
for  I  had  formed  the  resolution  to  leave  the  house  that 
very  night,  and  in  my  feeble  condition  I  did  not  want  the 
trouble  of  dressing.  I  had  also  determined  to  take  Carrie 
10 


144 

with  me,  and,  accordingly,  as  soon  as  I  was  comfortably- 
disposed  on  the  bed,  I  asked  him  to  bring  her  to  me.  He 
went  to  our  room  and  brought  her,  and  informed  me  that 
the  other  children  were  all  asleep,  and  their  mother  lying 
down  with  them.  They  had  evidently  became  reconciled 
to  her,  and  the  fact  of  their  making  up  with  her  so  quickly 
caused  me  a  secret  pang,  though  I  knew  it  was  really 
nothing  to  me,  and  that  their  happiness  would  be  promoted 
thereby.  I  then  asked  Eugene  to  go  and  bring  my  trunks, 
and  all  mine  and  Carrie's  things,  into  this  room.  I  think 
this  request  aroused  some  suspicion  in  his  bosom,  for  he 
hesitated  a  little,  and  asked  me  what  I  meant,  and  what 
I  was  going  to  do ;  but  if  so,  I  quieted  his  apprehensions 
by  telling  him,  in  an  indifferent  manner  that  I  did  not 
want  them  in  the  room  with  that  woman,  and  that  I  only 
wanted  them  where  I  could  get  at  them  conveniently 
without  meeting  her. 

Accordingly  he  ordered  the  trunks  brought  down,  and 
closely  following  them  came  "  that  woman."  Doubtless 
she  thought  we  were  intending  to  slip  away  from  her,  and 
this  idea  aroused  the  virago  in  her  bosom. 

"What  are  you  about?"  said  she.  "You  need  not 
think  to  give  me  the  slip  now.  I  have  spent  too  much 
time  hunting  you,  and  now  that  I  have  got  hold  of  you,  I 
intend  to  keep  you.     I  am  not  done  with  you  yet." 

"  I  have  no  idea  of  slipping  away  from  you,"  replied 
Eugene.  "But  this  lady  is  very  sick,  and  wants  her 
things  in  her  own  room.  And,  beside,  she  is  not  in  a 
condition  to  be  agitated  by  such  violence  just  now." 

"  You  are  very  careful  of  her  just  now,  would  it  not  be 
just  as  well  for  you  to  have  some  care  of  me  ?" 

"  But  I  assure  you  she  is  indeed  very  ill.  You  can  see 
for  yourself." 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  145 

"  If  she  is  so  very  ill,  you  can  get  some  one  to  stay 
with  her.  But,  as  for  yourself,  you  had  better  come  up 
stairs  with  your  wife." 

How  that  last  word  grated  on  my  ear,  emphasized  as 
she  emphasized  it.  And  yet  it  was  true.  She  was  his 
wife,  and  I  was  only  his  mistress.  His  place  was  with 
her,  and  not  with  me,  and  I  wanted  him  to  go.  And,  aside 
from  the  question  of  right  and  wrong,  I  had  other  reasons 
for  wishing  him  to  leave  me  alone  and  go  to  hei'  room 
with  her.  In  the  first  place,  his  absence  was  necessary  in 
order  that  I  might  carry  out  the  plan  I  had  formed  of 
taking  my  departure  from  the  house  that  very  night.  Be- 
side, I  knew  that  a  prolongation  of  this  interview  would 
only  result  in  exciting  me  to  such  a  degree  as  to  wholly 
prostrate  me  again,  and  the  little  strength  I  had  was  barely 
sufficient  for  my  contemplated  flight.  Accordingly  I  sec- 
onded her  demand  with  my  entreaties,  and  urged  him  for 
the  sake  of  peace,  and  for  the  sake  of  my  health,  if  not 
of  my  life,  to  go  with  her.  After  some  urging  he  went 
and  brought  some  matches,  and  under  pretense  of  placing 
them  within  my  reach,  came  to  the  bedside,  snatched  a 
kiss  before  I  knew  what  he  intended,  and  whispering  me 
that  he  would  be  back  as  soon  as  she  went  to  sleep,  left 
the  room.  She  was  waiting  for  him  just  outside  the  door, 
and  I  heard  them  ascend  the  stairs  together. 

Then  I  knew  it  was  time  for  me  to  act,  for  I  was  cer- 
tain he  would  be  back  before  long,  and  any  delay  might 
be  fatal  to  my  plans.  As  soon  as  the  echo  of  their  foot- 
steps, therefore,  had  died  away  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  T 
rung  the  bell,  and  when  the  messenger  came,  ordered  him 
to  send  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel  to  me.  The  landlord 
came  in  a  few  minutes,  and  I  briefly  told  him  the  whole 
shameful  story — how  I  had  married  Giles  (or  Mason)  long 


146 

years  ago,  and  had  lived  with  him  ever  since,  believing 
him  to  be  my  lawful  husband ;  how  this  woman  had  came 
and  claimed  to  be  his  lawful  wife ;  how  he  had  admitted 
the  justice  and  correctness  of  her  claim,  and  that  she 
was  really  and  truly  his  wife;  and  of  my  resolution  to 
leave  at  once,  and  then  begged  his  assistance  in  my  en- 
deavor. I  told  him  I  could  not  stay  to  see  them  again, 
and  asked  him  to  get  a  carriage  and  send  me  away  at 
once.  He  used  all  his  persuasive  powers  to  induce  me  to 
stay  where  I  was  until  I  was  better — told  me  over  and 
over  again  that  it  would  kill  me,  if  I  went  out  that  night — 
but  it  was  all  in  vain.  Indeed,  the  suggestion  of  death 
was  the  very  poorest  argument  he  could  have  used,  for  so 
intensely  bitter  had  been  my  lot  in  life  thus  far  that  I 
would  as  soon  have  died  as  not. 

When  he  found  I  was  unalterably  resolved  to  go  that 
night,  he  professed  his  readiness  to  help  me,  and  asked 
me  where  I  intended  to  go.  I  had  not  selected  any  place, 
and,  after  hesitating  a  moment,  replied  that  it  did  not 
matter  where  I  went — anywhere  in  the  country — until  I 
was  better,  and  could  seek  a  home  in  some  other  part  of 
the  country.  He  then  informed  me  that  he  had  a  sister 
living  on  a  farm  but  six  miles  from  the  city,  who  he  was 
sure  would  make  me  welcome  and  treat  me  kindly,  and 
would  give  me  such  care  as  my  situation  demanded.  He 
assured  me  that  I  would  be  comfortably  situated,  and  of- 
fered to  get  a  carriage  and  take  me  there  himself.  I 
thanked  him  from  the  bottom,  of  my  heart,  for  his  kind 
and  generous  offer,  and  he  went  out  to  call  a  carriage. 

But  a  few  minutes  elapsed  since  his  departure,  and 
there  was  a  gentle  tap  at  my  door.  A  moment  more  and 
it  was  opened,  and  the  landlord's  wife  came  in.  She  was 
about  forty  years  of  age,  of  gentle  and  ladylike  manners 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  147 

and  disposition,  while  goodness  and  kindness  beamed 
from  every  lineament  of  her  face,  and  furnished  an  uner- 
ring index  to  the  noble  qualities  of  her  heart.  She 
approached  my  bedside,  laid  her  hand  gently  and  caress- 
ingly upon  my  forehead,  and,  with  a  world  of  kindness  in 
her  tone,  said  :• 

"My  husband  tells  me  you  are  going  away  to-night. 
Is  there  anything  I  can  do  to  assist  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  Mrs. ,"  replied  I,  quite  overcome  w^ith  her 

kindness,  "  God  will  reward  you  for  your  kindness  to  a 
poor,  unfortunate  stranger — I  never  can." 

"There,  my  dear  child,"  said  she,  gently,  "don't  say 
anything  about  that,  but  just  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for 
you.  I  know  all  about  it,  and  I  were  less  than  human  to 
withhold  offers  of  assistance  under  such  circumstances." 

"  You  may  dress  Carrie,  if  you  please ;  and  should  any 
reverse  ever  befall  you,  or  you  be  in  need  of  assistance, 
may  God  deal  mercifully  with  you,  even  as  you  and  your 
husband  do  with  me  at  this  time." 

She  made  no  reply;  but,  as  she  dressed  the  little  girl, 
I  could  see,  by  the  quivering  lip  and  moistened  eye,  that 
I  had  a  friend  indeed  in  her — one  upon  whom  I  might 
rely  with  the  most  implicit  confidence  under  all  circum- 
stances. 

By  the  time  Carrie  was  dressed,  and  I  had,  with  the  as- 
sistance of  my  kind  friend,  put  on  my  wrappings,  her  hus- 
band came  in  to  tell  me  that  the  carriage  was  ready ;  and, 
as  he  saw  the  evident  indications  of  emotion,  he  began  to 
rally  us  on  our  tender  heartedness ;  but,  while  he  did  so, 
there  was  a  tremor  in  his  voice  and  a  moistness  in  his 
eye,  which  told  me  that  he,  too,  had  a  heart  to  feel  for  the 
sorrows  of  others,  and  that  contact  with  the  world  had 
not  deadened  all  the  finer  sensibilities  of  his  nature. 


148  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

His  wife  took  Carrie  in  her  arms,  I  leaned  upon  Mr. 
-'s  arm,  and  we  proceeded  to  the  carriage.     When  I 


had  been  assisted  in,  she  kissed  Carrie  and  placed  her  by 
my  side,  and  then  holding  my  hand  in  hers,  said,  in  a 
tremulous  voice: 

"If  you  want  any  assistance,  at  any  time,  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  come  to  me,  and  be  assured  that  your  petitions  will 
never  be  in  vain." 

I  tried  to  reply,  but  could  not.  My  emotions,  at  such 
unexpected  kindness,  quite  overcame  me ;  and,  after  try- 
ing, in  vain,  to  give  utterance  to  the  deep  thankfulness  of 
my  heart,  I  leaned  back  in  the  carriage  and  burst  into 
tears.  Her  husband,  without  a  word,  sprang  into  the  car- 
riage, beside  me,  and  we  rolled  away  toward  the  house  of 
his  sister,  where  we  arrived  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  Of  course,  the  family  were  all  asleep  at  the 
time,  but  he  called  his  sister  up,  introduced  me,  and 
briefly  explained  the  cause  of  our  untimely  visit 

She  welcomed  me  with  a  degree  of  warmth  and  kind- 
ness which  showed  that  my  painful  fortune  had  touched  a 
tender  chord  in  her  heart,  and  that  nature  had  bestowed 
upon  her  the  same  noble  soul  which  animated  the  breast 
of  her  brother  and  his  wife,  and  at  once  set  about  making 
arrangements  for  my  comfort. 

Upon  seeing  me  comfortably  installed  in  my  new  home, 

Mr. took  his  leave  and  returned  to  the  city.     I  have 

never  seen  him  or  his  angel-wife  since,  but  should  these 
lines  come  under  their  observation,  let  them  be  assured 
that  my  heart  still  cherishes  a  lively  sense  of  gratitude  to 
them  for  their  kindness  in  that  dark  hour  of  my  life,  and 
that,  daily  and  nightly,  my  prayers  are  offered  up  to 
heaven  for  its  choicest  blessings  to  rest,  in  rich  profusion, 
upon  them.    And,  though  their  reward  may  not  be  of  this 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  149 

earth,  at  the  great  day,  when  all  shall  stand  before  the 
bar  of  God,  then  shall  the  righteous  Judge  say  unto 
them :  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these,"  and  "  Come  ye  blessed  of  my  Father." 


150  ANNIE  NELLES;  OR, 


CHAPTER   XI. 

Mrs.  King,  the  lady  at  whose  house  I  was  now  staying, 
was  a  middle-aged  woman,  in  whose  countenance  a  genial, 
sunny  disposition,  and  an  abundant  stock  of  all  the  better 
and  nobler  feelings  of  human  nature,  were  plainly  revealed. 
Utterly  devoid  of  all  affectation  or  absurd  display,  calm 
and  self-possessed,  and  having  an  unusual  amount  of  strong, 
practical  common  sense,  she  was  just  the  right  guardian 
for  me  in  my  present  lonely  and  bewildering  situation. 
For,  to  tell  the  truth,  the  terrible  incidents  of  the  last  few 
hours  had  so  shattered  my  nerves  that,  for  the  time  being, 
I  was  almost  incapable  of  thinking  intelligibly  upon  any 
subject,  or  of  devising  anything  for  the  future. 

As  soon  as  her  brother  had  taken  his  departure,  she  led 
me  into  a  room  adjoining  the  one  in  which  she  had  re- 
ceived us,  and  told  me  that  was  to  be  my  room  so  long  as 
I  chose  to  occupy  it.  I  looked  around  the  room,  and  every 
thing  bore  the  most  ample  testimony  to  her  character,  as 
the  neat,  orderly,  and  unpretentious  housekeeper  she  was. 
The  furniture  was  all  plain — much  of  it  was  old-fashioned — 
byt  everything  was  scrupulously  clean  and  in  the  best  of 
order.  There  was  a  rag-carpet  on  the  floor;  in  one  corner 
of  the  room  stood  a  comfortable-looking  bed,  covered  with  a 
clean  and  marvelously  white  counterpane ;  an  old-fashioned 
but  neat  and  comfortable-looking  sofa  occupied  one  side  of 
the  room ;  there  were  two  or  three  chairs,  a  small  table, 
and  a  washstand ;  while  on  another  side  of  the  room  was 
a  small  fire-place,  in  which  a  bright  and  cheerful-looking 
fire  had  already  been  started  by  my  kind  hostess.     She 


^  THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  151 

drew  the  sofa  in  front  of  the  fire,  brought  a  pillow,  and  told 
me  to  lie  down.  She  then  left  me,  saying  she  would  re- 
turn in  a  few  minutes  with  something  to  refresh  me  after 
my  ride.  In  vain  I  assured  her  I  did  not  need  anything — 
that  I  did  not  wish  her  to  take  any  trouble :  she  replied 
that  I  must  take  something,  and  went  away. 

She  was  gone  but  a  short  time,  and  came  back  with  a 
tray,  upon  which  was  a  pot  of  strong  tea,  cups,  sugar  and 
cream,  nice  white  bread  and  fresh  butter.  These  she  placed 
upon  the  table,  and  laughingly  told  me  to  eat  my  supper 
and  go  to  bed  like  a  good  child.  I  thanked  her  kindly, 
and  replied  that  I  had  had  my  supper,  but  would  drink 
some  tea  before  retiring.  She  then  told  me  to  lie  and  take 
my  rest  in  the  morning  —  that  she  did  not  have  breakfast 
early,  and  would  rap  on  my  door  when  it  was  time  for  me 
to  get  up ;  then  she  bid  me  good-night,  and  left  the  room. 

After  she  had  gone,  I  drank  a  cup  of  tea,  undressed 
Carrie  and  put  her  to  bed,  and  then  sat  down  before  the 
fire  to  try  to  think  and  devise  some  plan  for  the  future. 
Oh !  how  dark  and  dismal  my  lot,  both  present  and  future, 
seemed,  as  I  sat  there  and  mused  upon  it  during  the  still 
hours  of  that  night.  Here  I  was,  an  entire  stranger ;  eight 
dollars,  which  I  had  in  my  purse,  constituted  my  entire 
fortune ;  I  had  myself  and  Carrie  to  care  for,  and  I  could 
think  of  nothing  at  which  I  could  make  a  comfortable  sup- 
port, and  raise  and  educate  her  as  I  wished  to.  It  was 
true,  I  was  under  no  legal  obligation  to  provide  for  her:  she 
w^as  no  relation  to  me ;  but  I  loved  her  as  if  she  were  my 
own ;  she  did  not  know  but  that  I  was  her  mother ;  and  the 
thought  of  casting  her  upon  the  cold  charities  of  the  world 
was  not  to  be  endured  for  a  moment.    But  what  could  I  do  ? 

Once  the  tempter  whispered  me  to  apply  to  Mason  for 
her  support.    Notwithstanding  his  resolute  denial,  I  felt 


152 

confident  she  was  his  child;  and  surely  it  would  be  but  jus- 
tice that  he  should  be  charged  with  the  burden  of  her  main- 
tenance, rather  than  myself.  But  the  suggestion  was  no 
sooner  made  than  it  was  rejected.  No ;  I  had  deliberately 
fled  from  him,  and  had  taken  measures  to  conceal  my 
whereabouts ;  and  not  for  worlds  would  I  now  let  him  know 
where  I  was:  because  this  would  defeat  the  very  object  of 
my  concealment  from  him.  But  why  not  send  Carrie  back 
to  him  ?  Because  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  part 
with  her  in  my  desolation.  She  was  the  only  living  being 
around  whom  the  tendrils  of  my  affection  could  entwine 
themselves  for  support;  and,  were  she  taken  away,  then, 
indeed,  "my  house  were  left  unto  me  desolate."  No ;  keep 
her  with  me  I  would;  and  she  should  never  know  but  she 
whom  she  called  "  mother"  was  of  her  own  flesh  and  blood. 
Yes,  she  should  stay  with  me,  and  my  trust  in  God  was 
strong  that  he  would  find  some  way  of  escape  from  my 
present  embarrassing  situation. 

Thus  I  sat  by  the  fire  and  mused  the  remainder  of  that 
eventful  night,  and  it  was  not  until  daylight  was  dawning 
in  the  east  that  the  chilliness  of  the  atmosphere  (my  fire 
had  long  since  burned  low  in  the  grate,  though  I  noticed 
it  not)  admonished  me  that  I  should  retire  to  bed  to  keep 
myself  from  suffering.  I  undressed  and  got  into  bed  be- 
side my  little  darling,  and,  worn  out  by  feebleness  and  the 
exciting  events  of  the  night,  I  sunk  at  last  into  a  sound 
and  refreshing  slumber. 

When  I  awoke  it  was  late,  for  the  sun  was  high  in  the 
heavens,  and  was  brightly  shining  into  my  room  through  a 
slight  opening  in  the  curtains.  Everything  around  me 
looked  strange,  and  for  a  moment  I  could  not  realize  where 
I  was.  '  But  soon  the  recollection  of  the  horrid  events  of 
the  past  night  rushed  across  my  mind,  and,  with  a  groan 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  153 

of  anguish,  I  sunk  back  upon  my  pillow  and  closed  my 
eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  the  hated  vision.  But  vain,  vain 
were  my  efforts.  The  dread  past  was  branded  and  burnt 
into  my  brain  in  characters  of  living  fire,  and  there  was 
no  escape  from  the  horrid  torture  of  its  contemplation, 
and  again  I  groaned  aloud  in  my  agony.  Poor  Carrie  was 
awake  and  was  frightened  at  the  violence  of  my  emotion, 
and,  in  piteous  tones,  asked  me  what  was  the  matter.  The 
sound  of  her  gentle,  bird-like  voice  recalled  me  to  myself; 
I  turned  over  toward  her,  and,  after  caressing  her  for 
a  few  moments,  looked  at  my  watch.  Judge  of  my  sur- 
prise to  find  that  it  was  a  few  minutes  after  ten  o'clock ! 

I  immediately  arose  and  proceeded  to  dress  myself  and 
Carrie,  when  we  went  into  the  next  room.  Mrs.  King  was 
sitting  there  alone,  engaged  in  knitting.  She  looked  up, 
with  a  pleasant  smile,  as  we  came  in,  and  said  Idndly : 

"  Good  morning.     I  hope  you  have  rested  well." 

"If  late  hours  are  any  evidence,  I  certainly  have.  But 
why  did  you  not  call  me  as  you  said  you  would  ?  " 

"I  did  tap  once  on  your  door  about  eight  o'clock,  but 
you  seemed  to  be  sleeping  so  soundly  that  I  thought  it  a 
pity  to  disturb  you.  I  knew  it  was  late  when  you  went  to 
bed,  and  thought  the  rest  would  do  you  more  good  than 
anything  else.  So  I  kept  your  breakfast  warm,  and  just 
left  you  alone.     Will  you  have  it  now  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  thank  you.  It  was,  indeed,  late  when  I  went 
to  bed,  for  I  did  not  lie  down  until  daylight  was  appearing 
in  the  east.  But  I  am  sorry  to  put  you  to  so  much 
trouble." 

"Say  nothing  about  that.  Poor  child!  what  is  my 
trouble  compared  with  yours  ?  " 

"  But  I  brought  my  trouble  upon  myself,  innocently,  it 
is  true,  and  it  is  not  right  for  me  to  cause  you  trouble." 


164  ANNIE    NELLES  ;    OR, 

"  My  Master  tells  us  to  bear  each  others'  burdens,  and, 
although  I  fall  far  short  of  obeying  His  commands,  at  all 
times,  I  can  not  avoid  so  plain  a  requirement  of  duty  as 
this." 

This  little  conversation,  during  which  she  had  been  en- 
gaged in  placing  our  breakfast  on  the  table,  gave  me  a 
new  insight  into  the  character  of  my  kind  hostess.  I  now 
understood  the  secret  of  the  calm  contentment  which  ever 
rested  upon  her  features,  and  the  genial  sunshine  which 
ever  pervaded  her  presence.  She  was  an  humble,  consist- 
ent follower  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus,  and  her  simple, 
Christain  faith  imparted  to  her  character  a  calm  and  ele- 
vated refinement  which  I  have  never  seen  excelled.  Surely 
there  is  a  crown  of  glory  laid  up  for  her  at  the  right  hand 
of  her  heavenly  Master,  which  Christ,  the  righteous  Judge, 
shall  give  to  her  in  that  day. 

My  heart  was  too  full  for  reply,  and,  without  a  word,  we 
took  our  seats  at  the  table,  but  my  emotions  choked  me,  and 
I  could  scarcely  eat  the  food  she  placed  before  me.  But  Car- 
rie, poor  child,  had  nothing  to  pre-occupy  her  mind ;  she  did 
not  realize  or  know  the  situation  in  which  we  were  placed, 
and  she  eat  heartily,  prattling  away  meanwhile  in  all  the 
merry  light-heartedness  of  childhood.  How  I  envied  her 
freedom  from  care  and  sorrow,  and  almost  wished  that  I, 
too,  were  a  child  again. 

Surely,  childhood  is  the  happiest  portion  of  life ;  it  can 
not  be  otherwise.  In  infancy,  we  know  nothing  of  the 
deceit  and  sinfulness  of  the  world;  the  spirit  has  not 
been  blighted  by  contact  with  the  rough  scenes  of  adver- 
sity, which  invariably  accompany  more  mature  years; 
the  world  seems  but  a  vast  storehouse  of  pleasure,  instead 
of  the  scene  of  strife  and  conflict,  which  later  experience 
demonstrates  it  to  be ;  and  life  seems  one  long  day  of  sun- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  155 

shine,  instead  of  a  succession  of  tempests,  which  too  often 
break  and  blight  the  spirit  of  man  as  he  reels  before  the 
unequal  conflict.  It  is  true  that  childhood  has  its  griefs, 
and  its  little  sorrows,  but  their  memory  is  soon  swept  away 
by  the  torrent  of  happiness  which  speedily  follows,  and 
all  is  bright  again.  Happy,  thrice  happy,  days  of  child- 
hood !  Would  that  ye  were  mine  again.  But  vain  is  the 
wish.  Ye  are  gone  never  to  return,  and  I,  a  lone  wan- 
derer amid  the  children  of  men,  am  left  to  breast  the 
storms  of  maturer  life  as  best  I  may.  God  give  me  his 
grace  to  sustain  me  in  the  dreadful  conflict,  lest  I  suc- 
cumb in  the  unequal  strife. 

After  breakfast  was  over  I  took  Carrie  on  my  lap  and 
talked  to  her.  I  felt  certain  that  Mason  would  do  all  in 
his  power  to  regain  possession  of  us,  and  proceeded  to 
give  her  such  instruction  as  it  seemed  to  me  would  pre- 
vent her  childish  prattle  from  betraying  the  place  of  our 
concealment.  I  told  her  she  must  never  ask  for  her  papa 
or  her  little  brothers;  that  they  were  all  dead,  and  she 
would  never  see  them  again,  and  that  if  any  one  asked  her 
about  them,  she  must  say  they  were  dead.  The  poor 
child  did  not  understand  the  import  of  my  language — she 
knew  not  what  I  meant  when  I  told  her  "'they  were 
dead  " — she  knew,  however,  there  was  something  wrong, 
and  my  solemn  looks,  and  impressive  tone  and  manner, 
awed  her  into  submission  to  all  my  requirements.  She 
promised  compliance  with  my  wishes,  and  I  have  every 
reason  to  believe  she  kept  her  promise,  notwithstanding 
her  tender  years  at  the  time  of  making  it. 

As  I  had  anticipated,  Mason  made  great  efforts  to  discover 
our  whereabouts.  I  had  been  at  Mrs.  King's  but  two  or 
three  days,  when  there  appeared  in  the  columns  of  the 
"Commercial,"  and  other  papers  of  the  city,  a  notice,  calling 


156  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

for  information  of  a  lady  and  child,  giving  a  perfect  descrip- 
tion of  Carrie  and  myself  This  was  inserted  for  three  or 
four  days  in  succession,  when,  it  having  evidently  failed  to 
elicit  any  information,  it  was  discontinued,  and  another, 
offering  a  "  liberal  reward,"  for  tidings  of  the  fugitives,  ap- 
peared in  its  place.  Mrs.  King  called  my  attention  to 
this  notice,  and  said,  laughingly,  that  she  thought  she  had 
better  answer  it  and  get  the  "liberal  reward."  But  I  felt 
no  uneasiness,  notwithstanding  Mason's  evidently  earnest 
attempts  to  ascertain  my  whereabouts.  We  very  seldom 
saw  any  company,  and  I  had  too  much  confidence  in  the 
only  persons  who  were  in  possession  of  my  secret,  to  have 
any  fears  of  their  betraying  me.  These  advertisements, 
therefore,  gave  me  no  alarm  whatever,  and  I  remained 

quiet,  fully  believing  that  Mr. would  let  me  know 

when  it  was  safe  for  me  to  leave  my  place  of  concealment. 
And  my  confidence  was  not  misplaced  in  the  least. 
For  some  time,  advertisements  of  various  kinds  continued 
to  appear  in  the  journals  of  the  city,  all  pointing  to  me, 
and  directed  to  the  object  of  my  discovery,  but  after  a 
time  they  ceased,  and  the  pursuit  appeared  to  be  aban- 
doned. Doubtless  Mason  would  have  found  me,  had  I 
sought  a  hiding-place  in  some  distant  part  of  the  country, 
but  the  fact  that  I  had  taken  refuge  so  close  to  him — 
under  his  very  nose  as  it  were — seems  never  to  have  oc- 
curred to  him,  and  his  efforts  were  all  directed  too  far 
away.     A  day  or  two  after  the  advertisements  ceased  to 

be  in  the  papers,  my  kind  friend,  Mr. ,  sent  word 

to  me  that  Mason  had  gone  to  New  York  with  his  wife, 
and  that  all  fear  of  detection  was  over,  for  the  present  at 
least.  Now  I  felt  free  again,  for  though  I  had  never  had 
any  fears  that  either  Mr. or  Mrs.  King  would  be- 
tray me,  still  I  thought  that  I  was  not  perfectly  safe  so 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  157 

long  as  he  continued  the  search  for  me.  I  knew  that  he 
had  money,  and  I  was  well  aware  of  the  wonderful  power  of 
gold  in  stimulating  the  efforts  of  detectives.  And  I  had 
every  reason  to  believe  that  he  w^ould  spare  neither  time  nor 
money  in  his  efforts  to  find  me.  And  there  is  ample  evi- 
dence that  he  did  employ  a  large  number  of  special  agents, 
not  only  in  Cincinnati,  but  in  other  cities,  to  discover  my 
hiding-place. 

Now,  however,  the  search  was  ended,  and  the  question 
arose  w^hat  was  I  to  do  ?  It  was  very  evident  that  I  could 
not  stay  in  my  present  quarters — something  must  be  done 
to  support  myself  and  my  child — and  what  could  it  be  ? 
I  knew  something  about  painting  in  water-colors,  and 
could  paint  on  glass,  but  it  would  take  time  and  means  to 
get  up  a  class  of  pupils,  and,  beside,  I  had  no  great  con- 
fidence in  my  ability  to  earn  a  living  in  this  way.  And, 
even  if  successful,  how  was  I  to  support  Carrie  and  my- 
self while  I  was  getting  a  class  and  obtaining  the  practice 
necessary  to  enable  me  to  teach  properly,  for  I  had  paid 
no  attention  to  painting  for  a  long  time,  and  was  sadly  out 
of  practice.  I  had  no  money,  having  paid  Mrs.  King  what 
little  I  had  when  I  came  there,  and  my  way  seemed  beset 
with  difficulties  on  every  hand.     But  something  I  must  do. 

I  mentioned  my  difficulties  to  Mrs.  King,  and  she 
proposed  that  I  should  stay  with  her,  while  her  brother 
would  get  me  a  class,  and  that,  in  the  meantime,  I  could 
get  material  from  the  city,  and  attend  to  my  practice 
until  I  was  able  to  take  charge  of  the  class.  To  this 
kind  proposition,  I  objected  that  I  had  already  burdened 
her  brother  and  herself  sufficiently,  and  that  I  was  unwil- 
ling to  tax  their  kindness  any  further.  It  was  finally  set- 
tled that  I  should  leave  Carrie  with  her  while  I  went  to 
the  city  and  found  some  employment  at  which  I  could 


158  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

earn  my  own  support  while  making  the  necessary  prepar- 
ations to  take  my  class.  I  dreaded  parting  from  my  child, 
even  for  the  short  time  which  it  was  supposed  would  elapse 
before  I  could  reclaim  her;  but  there  seemed  no  alterna- 
tive, and  I  bade  her  good-bye  and  went  to  the  city.  The 
result  of  my  efforts  to  get  employment  will  be  found  in 
the  next  chapter. 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  159 

CHAPTER   XII. 

TTpon  leaving  Mrs.  King's  bouse  I  went  to  the  city,  and 
at  once  made  my  way  to  the  Spencer  House,  but  what  a 
disappointment  awaited  me  there.  The  kind  friends  who 
bad  formerly  kept  the  place,  and  from  whose  countenance 
I  bad  anticipated  so  much,  were  no  longer  there.     Mrs. 

's  health  bad  been  getting  delicate  for  some  time,  and 

they  bad  finally  rented  the  bouse  and  gone  on  a  journey 
for  her  benefit,  having  left  the  city  that  very  morning.  It 
will  be  borne  in  mind  that  nearly  a  week  had  elapsed  since 
Mr. bad  sent  me  the  intelligence  of  Mason's  depart- 
ure, and  in  that  time  their  arrangements  had  been  com- 
pleted, and  they  had  gone  away.  What  was  I  to  do  ?  I 
was  alone  in  a  great  city,  without  money,  and  without  a 
single  friend  to  whom  I  could  apply  for  even  the  misera- 
ble boon  of  a  crust  of  bread  and  a  night's  lodging. 

I  rested  for  a  short  time,  and  then  set  out  in  search  of 
something  I  could  do.  By  dint  of  persistent  inquiry  I  at 
last  found  a  stopping-place,  in  the  family  of  a  Mr.  Jen- 
nings, on  Main  Street,  near  Seventh.  They  gave  me  no 
regular  employment,  but  consented  that  I  should  remain 
there,  and  work  for  my  board,  until  something  better 
should  turn  up.  Poor  as  this  arrangement  was,  it  still 
furnished  me  with  food  and  shelter  until  I  could  do  better. 
For  this  I  was  duly  thankful,  and  entered  upon  my  new 
avocation  with  zest  and  gratitude,  while,  in  the  mean- 
time, I  spared  no  pains  to  find  some  more  lucrative  em- 
ployment. But  days  passed,  and  no  opening  presented 
itself — every  avenue  of  honorable  support  seemed  closed 
11 


160 

to  me,  and  despair  was  fast  settling  down  upon  my  mind. 
But  temporary  relief  was  at  hand,  and  that,  too,  from  a 
quarter  of  which  I  had  not  dreamed. 

One  day,  as  I  was  returning  from  market,  whither  I 
had  been  for  Mrs.  Jennings,  I  met  a  gentleman  who  was 
about  passing  me  without  notice,  but  who  suddenly 
stopped,  and  exclaimed: 

"  My  God !  Mrs.  Giles,  is  that  you  ?  " 

I  recognized  him  in  a  moment.  He  was  an  old  neigh- 
bor of  mine  in  my  happier  days,  and  I  returned  his  greet- 
ing as  warmly  as  it  was  given. 

"  Where  do  you  live,  and  where  is  Giles  ?  "  he  asked, 
when  our  first  greeting  was  over. 

I  told  him  where  I  lived  and  how  I  lived ;  that  I  knew 
nothing  of  Giles ;  and  that,  if  he  would  call  on  me  that 
evening,  I  would  explain  everything  to  him.  He  prom- 
ised to  do  so,  and  we  shook  hands  and  parted,  he  going 
down  the  street  and  I  returning  to  what  was  my  home. 

In  the  evening  he  came,  and  I  told  him  all  that  had 
happened  since  we  had  seen  each  other,  and  with  which 
the  reader  is  already  acquainted.  He  seemed  much 
moved  at  the  story  of  my  misfortunes,  and,  when  I  told 
him  of  my  projects  for  the  future,  and  that  if  I  could  only 
get  to  Captain  Lake  I  was  sure  he  would  let  me  have  the 
means  to  carry  my  plan  into  execution,  he  at  once  offered 
to  loan  me  the  money  to  go  to  Atlanta.  He  had  left 
there  before  the  war  broke  out  (it  was  now  ended),  and 
he  had  not  been  back  since,  and  did  not  know  whether 
Captain  Lake  was  there  or  not,  but  he  would  let  me  have 
the  money  to  go  and  see.  I  accepted  his  offer  with 
thankfulness,  and  the  next  day  saw  me  on  my  way  to  my 
once  pleasant  home. 

But  I  was  doomed  to  the  bitterest  disappointment  I  had 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  161 

experienced  since  discovering  the  perfidy  of  Mason.  I  do 
not  refer  to  the  horrible  devastation  which  had  been 
wrought  by  the  cruel  hand  of  war  in  and  around  Atlanta ; 
this  is  matter  of  history,  and  I  was,  in  some  measure,  pre- 
pared for  it — ^but  Captain  Lake  was  not  there,  nor  were 
my  efforts  to^  obtain  any  intelligence  of  him  successful. 
It  was  a  long  time  before  I  could  even  find  any  of  my  for- 
mer acquaintances.  All  had  gone,  and  their  places  had 
been  filled  by  others,  and  at  the  home  of  my  childhood  I 
was  in  a  land  of  strangers.  At  length  I  succeeded  in  find- 
ing an  old  man  who  had  known  me  in  better  days,  and 
from  him  I  learned  that  Captain  Lake  was  somewhere  in 
the  North,  but  he  could  not  tell  me  where.  The  Captain 
had  been  so  severely  wounded  that  his  life  had  been  de- 
spaired of,  and  he  had  been  compelled  to  leave  the  army ; 
and,  at  the  close  of  the  war,  finding  his  property  destroyed, 
in  a  great  measure,  and  himself  nearly  a  bankrupt,  he  had 
made  his  way  north  in  hopes  of  repairing  his  shattered 
fortunes  to  some  extent. 

This  was  all  he  could  tell  me ;  and  sad  intelligence  it 
was  to  me.  What  was  I  to  do  next  ?  My  hopes  of  get- 
ting assistance  from  that  quarter  had  failed,  and  there  I 
w^as  without  any  means  of  supporting  myself,  or  even  of 
scarcely  paying  my  way  back  to  Cincinnati,  whither  I 
must  go.  My  child  was  there,  and  I  must  go  to  her  at  all 
hazards.  Beside,  in  the  disordered  state  of  things  at* 
Atlanta,  it  was  preposterous  for  me  to  think  of  trying  to 
earn  a  li\dng  there. 

The  difficulties  which  stared  me  in  the  face  might  well 
have  appalled  a  stouter  heart  than  mine,  but  I  met  them 
bravely  and,  thank  God !  have  been  to  a  considerable  ex- 
tent able  to  overcome  them. 

Through  the  kindness  and  with  the  aid  of  the  old  man 


162 

above  mentioned,  I  succeeded  in  obtaining  from  a  mer- 
chant in  Atlanta  the  loan  of  some  money  to  pay  my  fare 
back  to  Cincinnati,  where  I  proposed  to  start  anew  in  my 
search  for  fortune.  Upon  arriving  in  the  city,  my  first 
duty  was  to  pay  a  visit  to  Carrie,  and  the  reader  may  rest 
assured  that  I  never  performed  a  duty  more  willingly  in 
my  life.  I  had  not  seen  her  for  more  than  a  month,  and 
when  it  is  remembered  that  this  was  the  first  time  I  had 
ever  been  separated  from  her,  the  reader  will  have  no 
difficulty  in  believing  that  it  was  with  emotions  of  no  little 
joy  that  I  clasped  her  to  my  heart  once  more. 

I  found  both  her  and  her  kind  guardian  in  the  best  of 
health,  and  was  greeted  by  both  with  a  kindness  which  told 
the  esteem  in  which  I  was  held.  After  spending  a  day 
there,  I  went  back  to  the  city,  took  up  my  quarters  at  a 
boarding-house  at  No.  208  Fifth  street,  and  at  once  set 
about  refreshing  my  knowledge  of  painting  and  seeking 
for  pupils.  I  also  took  the  necessary  steps  to  secure  proper 
rooms  in  which  to  receive  my  class,  if  I  should  be  so  for- 
tunate as  to  get  one. 

My  success  equaled  my  most  sanguine  expectations. 
In  about  ten  days  I  had  a  class  of  some  twelve  pupils, 
and  had  so  assiduously  practiced  my  art,  that  I  felt  com- 
petent to  take  charge  of  them.  I  had  also  secured  very 
comfortable  rooms  at  No.  115  Elm  street,  and  had  decided 
to  keep  house  there,  thinking  it  would  cost  me  less  than 
to  board,  while  my  duties  to  my  pupils  would  leave  me 
plenty  of  time  to  do  my  own  house-work. 

For  a  time  I  got  on  swimmingly.  The  interest  of  my 
pupils  in  their  lessons  seemed  to  increase  from  day  to  day, 
and  as  they  progressed  under  my  instructions  they  took 
pains  to  speak  of  my  school  to  their  acquaintances — others 
applied  for  admission  to  my  school,  and  in  a  short  time  I 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  163 

had  all  the  scholars  which  my  rooms  would  accommodate. 
I  even  began  to  think  of  taking  my  little  girl  from  Mrs. 
King,  and  taking  charge  of  her  myself — something  I  had 
not  yet  done  for  the  reason  that  my  finances  were  not  in 
such  condition  as  to  enable  me  to  pay  for  her  board  in  the 
city,  as  it  would  cost  much  more  than  to  keep  her  at  her 
present  location. 

But  I  had  only  lived  in  my  present  quarters  about  three 
weeks — had  only  got  fairly  started  with  my  school  when 
the  owner  of  the  house  came  to  me  and  told  me  he  was 
about  selling  it,  and  that  I  must  look  for  rooms  elsewhere. 
Of  course  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and  so,  dismissing  my 
school  for  a  time,  I  set  out  on  the  weary  quest  of  another 
stopping  place.  My  search  was  long  and  tedious;  but 
why  inflict  the  annoyances  of  "  house-hunting  "  upon  my 
readers  ?  Suffice  it  to  say  that  I  finally  succeeded  in  get- 
ting rooms  for  barely  two  months — nothing  would  induce 
the  owner  to  rent  them  longer — at  No.  10  Harrison  street. 
And  to  tell  the  truth,  I  did  not  wish  to  stay  there  very 
long,  for  I  had  to  pay  a  most  exorbitant  rent,  and  my  fi- 
nances were  not  sufficient  to  stand  the  heavy  drain  for 
very  long. 

When  my  time  there  was  up,  I  again  found  tempo- 
rary quarters  in  four  rooms — I  had  to  take  all  or  none — 
on  the  third  floor  of  a  house  on  Sixth  street.  But  finan- 
cial considerations  induced  me  to  make  my  stay  there  as 
brief  as  possible,  and  in  a  short  time  I  removed  from  this 
location  to  a  small  cottage  at  No.  38  Barr  street,  where  I 
remained  as  long  as  I  staid  in  Cincinnati.  During  all 
this  time  I  had  had  a  good  class  in  painting,  and  my  re- 
ceipts had  been  considerably  in  advance  of  my  expendi- 
tures.    I  was  in  fact  doing  very  well. 

But  from  some  cause  which  I  have  never  been  able  to 


164  ANNIE  NELLES  ;   OR, 

explain  to  my  own  satisfaction,  my  business  began  to  de- 
cline. The  pupils  who  composed  my  first  classes  had  ob- 
tained all  the  knowledge  I  was  capable  of  imparting  to 
them,  and  no  others  appeared  to  take  their  places.  Be- 
coming convinced  that  my  day  of  usefulness  and  pecun- 
iary success  in  Cincinnati  was  past,  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  sell  off  my  furniture,  remove  to  Detroit,  and  try  my  luck 
there ;  and  at  once  proceeded  to  carry  my  determination 
into  effect.  Accordingly  I  converted  what  few  household 
goods  I  had  into  money,  and  with  this  in  my  pocket  went 
to  Mrs.  King's  to  get  Carrie,  preparatory  to  my  journey  to 
the  city  of  Detroit. 

I  found  Mrs.  King  almost  unwilling  to  let  Carrie  go 
away.  She  had  no  children  of  her  own,  and  she  had  be- 
come so  much  attached  to  '^  the  little  darling,"  that  she 
hardly  knew  how  to  part  with  her.  She  conceded  my 
right  to  take  her,  but,  at  the  same  time,  made  the  most 
liberal  offers  if  I  would  only  consent  to  let  her  keep  my 
child.  She  had  an  abundance  of  property,  and  if  I  would 
only  let  Carrie  stay  with  her,  it  should  all  be  her's  at  Mrs. 
King's  death.  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  better  for  Car- 
rie if  I  had  consented  to  let  her  stay,  but  she  was  all  I 
had  to  love  in  the  wide,  wide  world,  and  I  felt  that  it 
would  be  the  next  thing  to  taking  my  life  to  part  with  her. 
Accordingly  I  declined  her  munificent  offers,  and  took  Car- 
rie away,  loaded  with  presents,  and,  I  am  convinced,  sin- 
cerely mourned  by  her  who  had  so  long  acted  a  mother's 
part  toward  her.  Before  we  left,  she  exacted  from  me  a 
promise,  that  if  at  any  time,  Carrie  became  a  burden  to  me, 
and  I  found  it  necessary  to  part  with  her,  she  should  have 
her.  This  promise  I  gave  the  more  readily  because  I  felt 
sure  that  the  condition  upon  which  it  was  based  would 
never  arise.     And,  thank  God!  it  never  has  arisen.     I 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  165 

have  been  steeped  almost  to  the  lips  in  poverty's  depths — 
I  have  seen  the  time  that  I  hardly  knew  where  my  next 
meal  was  to  come  from — I  have  been  driven  to  pawn  my 
wearing  apparel,  my  jewelry,  and  even  (as  has  been  seen) 
the  keepsakes  of  dear  and  valued  friends,  in  order  to  pur- 
chase the  means  of  appeasing  my  hunger,  but  amid  it  all, 
the  time  has  never  come  when  I  was  willing  to  part  with 
that  child.  And  though  she  is  no  relation  to  me,  though 
no  ties  of  consanguinity  bind  us  together,  though  there  is 
no  bond  between  us,  save  that  arising  from  the  care  I  had 
bestowed  upon  her  in  the  helpless  days  of  infancy,  the 
time  will  never  come,  so  long  as  I  am  able  to  earn  the 
merest  pittance  of  food  for  myself  or  her,  in  which  I  shall 
be  willing  to  have  her  care  and  training  transferred  to 
other  hands  than  my  own.  I  may,  of  course,  consent  that 
temporarily  she  shall  be  placed  in  the  care  of  another,  as 
a  school-teacher  or  the  like,  but  further  than  this  I  never 
will  while  I  have  life  and  reason  left. 

My  journey  to  Detroit  was  attended  with  no  incidents 
worthy  of  notice  in  these  pages.  There  was  the  usual 
amount  of  annoyance  and  weariness  attending  railroad 
travel,  and  with  which  all  my  readers  are  familiar ;  there 
was  the  usual  amount  of  uproar  and  confusion  at  the  va- 
rious stations;  there  was  the  usual  annoyance  from  por- 
ters, hackmen,  omnibus  drivers,  etc.,  which  is  to  be  met 
with  in  all  the  principal  cities  of  the  United  States,  to  the 
disgrace  of  human  nature  in  general,  and  of  municipal 
officers  in  particular.  But  we  managed  to  live  through  it 
all,  and,  in  due  time,  found  ourselves  in  the  city  of  De- 
troit. 

I  had  no  very  well  defined  plans  in  coming  to  this  place. 
So  far  from  designing  to  pursue  the  avocation  which  had 
afforded  me  such  a  comfortable  subsistence  in  Cincinnati, 


166 

I  had  become  disgusted  with  it  as  a  means  of  livelihood, 
and  was  firmly  resolved  to  resort  to  it  only  in  case  all 
other  means  failed  to  produce  the  desired  results.  I  was 
therefore  totally  at  sea  as  to  the  future,  and  could  do  noth- 
ing but  stop  at  a  hotel  until  something  should  turn  up,  or, 
until  I  could  decide  upon  my  future  course  of  action. 

The  prospect  looked  cheerless  enough.  There  I  was,  in 
the  midst  of  a  large  city,  amid  the  moving  myriads  of 
whose  population  I  was  not  aware  that  I  knew  a  single 
soul,  with  but  little  means  in  my  possession,  and  entirely 
at  a  loss  which  way  to  turn  for  succor  and  relief.  But  my 
confidence  in  Providence,  or  my  lucky  star,  was  unabated ; 
I  felt  sure  that  some  means  of  relief  would  be  presented 
to  me;  and  I  retired  to  my  room  at  the  hotel,  and  slept  as 
soundly  as  though  the  future  had  been  to  me  a  cheerful 
day  of  summer  sunshine,  instead  of  the  dark  and  gloomy 
cloud  which  it  really  was. 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  167 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  next  morning  after  my  arrival  in  Detroit,  I  took  an 
inventory  of  my  means,  with  a  view  of  determining  upon 
some  mode  of  support  for  Carrie  and  myself.  Upon  one 
thing  I  was  decided — that  I  would  not  again  resort  to 
teaching  if  I  could  find  anything  else  to  do.  Not  that 
teaching  was  in  itself  so  very  disagreeable  to  me — many 
things  are  more  unpleasant;  but  it  was  very  confining, 
and  the  confinement  was  telling  upon  my  health.  Indeed, 
this  was  one  reason  why  I  was  so  willing  to  give  it  up  and 
leave  Cincinnati. 

I  found  myself  in  possession  of  something  over  five 
hundred  dollars — enough  I  thought  to  enable  me  to  fur- 
nish a  house,  and  open  a  small  boarding  establishment,  at 
which  I  was  confident  I  could  make  my  own  and  Carrie's 
living.  The  next  thing  was  to  secure  a  house,  and  I  at 
once  set  out  in  quest  of  one,  leaving  Carrie  in  charge  of  one 
of  the  girls  at  the  hotel.  My  search  was  long  and  tiresome, 
but  was  at  last  successful.  I  found  a  very  neat  cottage 
of  six  rooms,  which  was  vacant,  and  which  J  secured,  pay- 
ing three  months  rent  in  advance,  and  then  at  once  set 
about  furnishing  it.  My  furniture  was  comfortable,  though 
plain,  but  everything  was  high,  and  when  my  house  was 
furnished,  and  a  supply  of  provisions  bought,  my  five  hun- 
dred dollars  had  been  reduced  to  an  alarmingly  small 
amount.  Still  I  had  had  several  applications  for  board, 
and  I  felt  confident  of  success  in  my,  to  me,  new  enterprise. 

A  day  or  two  after  opening  my  house,  I  met  on  the 
street  with  one  whom  I  little  expected  to  see  there,  and 


168  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

who,  on  his  part,  was  equally  surprised  at  the  meeting.  It 
was  none  other  than  Captain  Lake.  He  had  been  living 
in  the  city  for  some  time,  but  had  no  idea  that  I  was  so 
near  him,  though  he  had  made  considerable  effort  to  find 
me.  The  last  trace  he  had  of  me,  he  had  obtained  from 
Giles  (or  Mason),  who  had  been  to  him  in  search  of  me, 
and  had  told  him  all  the  circumstances  of  our  parting, 
avowing,  at  the  same  time,  his  determination  to  find  me, 
and  live  with  me  again.  The  Captain  had  been  very  un- 
easy about  this,  and  was  very  much  relieved  when  I  as- 
sured him  that  under  no  circumstances  would  I  consent  to 
any  such  arrangement — ^that  I  was  not  his  wife,  and  noth- 
ing should  induce  me  to  become  his  mistress  again. 

I  then  inquired  about  himself  and  family.  His  family 
were  well,  but  he  was  suffering  severely  from  a  wound  he 
had  received  while  in  the  army,  and  which  it  was  thought 
would  cause  his  death.  I  may  remark  here  that  this  wound 
did  finally  end  his  life.  He  had  lost  a  great  share  of  his 
property  during  the  war,  but  had  saved  enough  to  afford 
himself  and  family  a  rather  moderate  support.  And  it 
was  from  him  at  this  time  that  I  learned  what  I  have  be- 
fore stated ;  that  my  brother  had  fallen  during  the  cam- 
paign against  Atlanta.  Although  I  had  not  heard  any- 
thing of  him  for  a  long  time,  I  had  hoped  until  this  mo- 
ment that  he  had  come  out  of  the  terrible  conflict  un- 
harmed, but  this  hope  was  now  suddenly  dashed  to  earth, 
and  with  what  terrible  force  the  blow  fell  upon  my  heart 
can  only  be  imagined  by  those  who,  like  me,  have  been 
called  to  mourn  the  loss  of  a  dear  and  only  brother.  And 
poignancy  was  added  to  my  sorrow  by  the  reflection  that 
he  had  fallen  in  what  I  could  not  but  consider  an  unjust 
and  unholy  cause.  But  it  was  vain  to  mourn.  He  was 
gone,  and  I  was  alone  in  the  wide  world. 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  169 

Captain  Lake  told  me  where  they  were  living,  invited 
me  to  come  there,  and  offered  me  a  home  in  his  family, 
saying  I  should  want  for  nothing  so  long  as  I  refused  to 
hold  any  communication  with  Giles.  I  thanked  him  for 
his  kind  offer,  hut  told  him  what  arrangements  I  had 
made  for  obtaining  my  support,  and  that  I  preferred  not 
to  be  dependent  upon  any  one — assured  him  that  I  had 
every  prospect  of  succeeding  in  my  undertaking,  and  said 
that  in  case  of  failure  it  would  be  time  enough  to  tax 
his  generosity  for  my  support.  He  seemed  very  much 
pleased  at  the  energy  I  had  displayed,  and  assured  me 
that  if  at  any  time  I  found  it  necessary  to  call  upon  him 
for  assistance  it  would  be  most  cheerfully  rendered.  He, 
however,  advised  me  to  drop  the  name  of  Giles  and  take 
my  maiden  name,  which  I  told  him  I  had  already  done, 
and  now  called  myself  Mrs.  Hamilton.  He  then  bid  me 
good  evening,  and  left  me,  saying  that  Mrs.  Lake  would 
come  and  see  me  the  next  day,  and  I  must  return  her 
visit. 

In  accordance  with  his  promise,  Mrs.  Lake  came  to  see 
me  on  the  morrow.  She  seemed  pleased  to  see  me,  as  I 
certainly  was  her;  but  she  was,  oh!  so  changed.  In 
the  few  years  since  I  had  seen  her  she  seemed  to  have 
lived  half  a  lifetime — her  once  smooth  and  lovely  brow 
was  now  deformed  with  incipient  wrinkles ;  her  blooming 
complexion  had  faded;  and  her  hair,  in  various  places, 
was  streaked  with  gray.  It  could  not  be  that  age  had 
wrought  so  much  of  change  in  her,  and  I  could  not  avoid 
the  conviction  that  her  married  life  had  not  been  very 
happy.  Nevertheless,  she  possessed  the  same  degree  of 
humor  and  gayety  as  of  old — it  might  be  subdued  a  trifle 
by  the  years  which  had  passed  over  her  head — and  we 
passed  a  very  pleasant  day  together.    When  she  went  home, 


170 

I  accompanied  her,  and  spent  the  night  at  their  house, 
returning  early  the  next  morning;  for  I  had  advertised 
in  the  Free  Press  for  boarders,  and  I  anticipated  applica- 
tions for  my  unoccupied  rooms  during  the  day. 

And  my  anticipations  were  not  disappointed.  Before 
nightfall  my  rooms  were  all  engaged,  and  I  had  been 
compelled  to  refuse  two  or  three  applicants.  My  success 
had  more  than  equaled  my  expectations.  In  less  than  a 
week  from  the  time  of  opening  my  house  I  had  filled  it 
with  as  agreeable  a  family  of  boarders  as  I  ever  met  in  my 
life.  Two  of  them,  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hopkins,  were  espe- 
cial favorites  of  mine,  particularly  the  lady.  I  do  not 
think  I  ever  knew  a  more  charming  woman  than  she  was, 
while  her  husband  was  just  my  ideal  of  a  gentleman.  My 
situation  was  very  pleasant,  and,  for  a  time,  things  went 
on  to  my  entire  satisfaction.  As  I  have  said,  I  called 
myself  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and  I  gave  my  boarders  to  under- 
stand that  I  was  a  widow,  and  that  Carrie  was  my  daugh- 
ter. I  had  considerable  trouble  to  school  her  into  this 
little  deception;  and  my  heart  smote  me  not  a  little  as  I 
trained  her  to  utter  the  falsehood  which  was  to  shield  my 
own  reputation  and  hers.  She  would  insist  that  her 
father's  name  was  Giles,  and  would  persist  in  asking  for 
him  and  for  her  little  brothers.  It  was  a  long  time  before 
I  could  educate  her  to  the  point  at  which  I  felt  it  safe  to 
allow  her  to  talk  alone  with  others ;  but  at  length  I  suc- 
ceeded, and  the  lie  was  fastened  upon  her  pure,  young 
spirit.  Was  it  a  sin  to  teach  her  thus  to  deceive  ?  Answer 
me,  ye  casuists,  who  shudder  with  horror  at  the  thought 
of  the  least  concealment  of  the  truth  in  others,  how  many 
of  you,  under  the  same  circumstances,  would  have  done 
otherwise  than  I  did  ? 

But,  though  everything  was  going  so  pleasantly  upon 


THE   LIFE   OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  171 

the  surface,  there  was  one  matter  which  gave  me  no  little 
secret  uneasiness.  I  dreaded  lest  Mason  might  succeed 
in  the  determination  he  had  expressed  to  Captain  Lake — 
might  succeed  in  discovering  my  whereabouts,  which,  it 
was  very  apparent  to  me,  would  he  immediately  and  ever- 
lastingly fatal  to  all  my  prospects  of  success;  and  my 
anxiety  was  not  in  the  least  dissipated  when  Captain 
Lake  told  me  he  had  reason  to  suspect  that  Mason  was 
in  the  city,  and  was  still  engaged  in  the  prosecution  of 
his  search.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do.  I  hardly  dared 
to  go  out  for  fear  of  meeting  him ;  and  the  probable  con- 
sequences of  such  a  meeting  were  the  burden  of  my 
di'eams  by  night.  One  thing  which  caused  this  secret 
dread  to  weigh  heavier  upon  my  spirits,  was  the  fact  that 
I  had  no  one  to  whom  I  could  confide  my  burden.  I  had 
but  one  living  friend  to  whom  I  could  have  unfolded  the 
tale,  and  he  was  in  San  Francisco,  California.  Some- 
times I  though  of  writing  to  him  about  the  matter,  but  I 
could  not  broach  the  subject  without  giving  him  the  whole 
history  of  my  past  life,  and  I  dreaded  to  see  it  in  writing : 
so  I  kept  my  burden  to  myself,  and  struggled  on. 

But  the  burden,  together  with  my  constant  confinement, 
was  fast  wearing  me  out.  I  grew  pale  and  thin ;  I  was 
flushed  and  feverish  at  night,  and  my  whole  system  was 
enervated  and  unstrung  to  a  most  alarming  degree.  At 
length  I  yielded  to  the  solicitations  of  my  friends,  and 
applied  to  a  physician  of  eminence  and  standing  for  relief 
He  pronounced  my  case  consumption,  and  gravely  assured 
me  that  there  was  no  relief  for  me ;  that  I  must  die  ere 
long,  and  that  all  that  could  be  done  was  to  smooth  my 
passage  to  the  tomb. 

Although  I  was  satisfied  he  was  in  error  as  to  what  ailed 
me,  still  I  thought  it  quite  likely  he  was  right  about  my 


172  ANNIE    NELLES:    OR 


early  decease,  and  this  reflection  but  increased  my  uneasi- 
ness. For,  when  I  was  dead,  what  would  become  of  Car- 
rie? Who  would  care  for  the  little  bud  which  was  just 
developing  into  the  perfect  flower  ?  As  this  inquiry,  in  all 
its  dreadful  vividness,  presented  itself  to  my  mind,  I  again 
thought  of  writing  to  my  friend  in  California,  and  asking 
him  to  take  care  of  my  child  when  I  was  gone;  but  how 
could  I  tell  him  of  her  without  telling  him  all  my  history  ? 
And  again  I  shrunk  from  the  dreadful  exposition.  My 
courage  was  not  then  equal  to  the  task  I  am  now  pursuing. 
Wronged  as  I  felt  that  I  had  already  been  by  fate  and  the 
world,  I  had  not  yet  sustained  enough  of  injury  at  their 
hands  to  rouse  me  to  the  pitch  of  desperate  courage  which 
would  enable  me  to  lay  bare  for  the  inspection  of  mankind 
all  the  miseries  and  sorrows  which  had  been  my  lot  since 
my  advent  upon  the  stage  of  existence — to  relate,  as 
guides  and  warnings  to  the  young,  the  many  and  fatal 
mistakes  of  my  career.  And,  above  all,  I  shrunk  from  ac- 
quainting him  with  my  condition,  feeling  assured  (so 
devoid  was  I  of  confidence  in  any  of  the  human  family) 
that  if  the  truth,  with  which  the  reader  is  already  familiar, 
were  unfolded  to  him,  he  would  at  once  and  forever  blot 
my  name  from  the  list  of  his  friends,  and  he — almost  the 
the  last  tie  which  bound  me  to  the  mass  of  humanity — 
be  lost  to  me ;  and  from  this  fate  I  shrunk  with  the  most 
painful  apprehension.  I  am  now  well  assured  that  in 
this  I  judged  him  wrongfully,  and  that  the  revelation,  so 
far  from  alienating  him  from  me,  would  but  have  bound 
his  spirit  more  closely  to  mine ;  but  it  is  the  province  of 
misery  to  render  us  suspicious  of  all  around  us,  and  at 
this  time  I  was  intensely  miserable. 

And  now  was  about  to  occur  an  event  which  was  des- 
tined to  work  an  entire  change  in  my  life — an  event  whose 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  173 

consequences  were  to  endure  as  long  as  my  life  shall  last, 
and  which  was  destined  to  sink  me  to  still  lower  depths 
of  misery  and  wretchedness  than  any  I  had  yet  tasted, 
although,  even  at  that  time,  it  seemed  to  me  I  had  already 
drained  the  bitter  cup  of  sorrow  to  its  very  dregs. 

I  was  going  to  market  one  evening  with  my  basket  on 
my  arm,  and,  as  I  walked  along,  was  musing  upon  the 
wretchedness  which  had  attended  my  every  step  in  life, 
and  wondering  why  I  had  thus  been  made  the  target  at 
which  fate  delighted  to  launch  her  sharpest  and  bitterest 
arrows,  when,  accidentally  raising  my  eyes,  I  beheld  a  sight 
which  for  a  moment  caused  my  heart  to  stand  still,  and 
almost  froze  the  blood  in  my  veins.  Crossing  the  street 
just  in  front  of  me  was  Eugene  Giles  Mason-=— he  from 
whose  face  I  had  been  so  carefully  hiding  for  the  last  two 
or  three  years,  and  than  whose  presence  I  could  conceive 
of  nothing  more  dreadful.  Fortunate  for  me  it  was  that 
his  eyes  were  bent  upon  the  ground,  and  that  he  was 
looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left:  had  his  eyes 
been  cast  in  my  direction  he  could  not  have  failed  to  see 
and  recognize  me,  and  I  shudder  even  to  this  day  when  I 
reflect  upon  what  might  have  been  the  consequences  of 
such  a  discovery.  I  stood  still,  hardly  daring  to  draw  my 
breath  until  he  hac^  passed  out  of  sight,  when  I  turned  and 
fled  homeward  as  rapidly  as  my  trembling  limbs  could 
carry  me. 

Arriving  at  my  own  house,  I  sat  down  and  tried  to  de- 
vise a  plan  to  meet  the  emergency,  but  for  some  time  my 
mind  was  incapable  of  anything  like  clear  or  connected 
action.  The  one  great  and  terrible  fact  that  the  destroyer 
of  my  peace  and  happiness  was  in  the  city,  doubtless  in 
search  of  me,  loomed  up  before  my  mental  vision  in  fear- 
ful proportions,  and  for  a  time  obscured  everything  else. 


174  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

It  is  true,  I  had  heard  of  him  from  time  to  time,  still  en- 
gaged in  the  prosecution  of  his  search  for  me ;  but  I  had 
escaped  so  long,  that  I  had  come  to  regard  his  discovery 
of  me  as  of  so  little  probability,  as  to  give  me  little  or  no 
uneasiness.  But  he  was  here  in  the  city — I  had  seen  him 
with  my  own  eyes — and  now  the  chase  seemed  so  near  up 
as  to  fill  me  with  the  most  fearful  apprehensions,  and  to 
deprive  me  for  the  time  of  all  power  of  rational  reflection. 

At  length,  however,  the  fever  of  excitement  having  passed 
away,  I  set  myself  to  calmly  consider  what  was  best  for 
me  to  do.  One  thing  was  evident — I  could  not  remain 
where  I  was,  nor  did  I  deem  it  safe  even  to  stay  in  the 
city  where  he  was  stopping.  Of  course,  he  had  photo- 
graphs of  me,  and,  by  the  aid  of  these  and  the  assistance 
of  the  police,  he  would  doubtless  soon  be  able  to  find  me, 
no  matter  how  much  care  I  might  use  in  concealing  the 
place  of  my  abode,  or  how  obscure  the  station  I  might 
assume.  I  at  once,  therefore,  determined  to  sell  out  what 
property  I  had,  in  the  most  secret  manner  possible,  no 
matter  at  what  sacrifice,  and  leave  Detroit.  But  whither 
should  I  go  ?  This  was  a  question  of  no  little  difficulty 
with  me ;  but,  after  debating  it  some  time  in  my  own  mind, 
I  decided  upon  Chicago,  believing  that  he  would  be  less 
likely  to  seek  me  in  that  direction  than  in  any  other. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  I  did  not  consult  Captain  Lake 
and  his  wife  before  deciding  a  matter  of  so  much  import- 
ance as  an  entire  change  in  my  mode  of  life,  as  well  as 
location  ;  but  I  must  confess  that  my  hasty  and  capricious 
temper,  which  has  been  the  bane  of  my  life,  had  put  it 
out  of  my  power  to  do  so.  I  will  explain.  The  reader  is 
familiar  with  the  means  by  which  Captain  Lake  had  suc- 
ceeded in  possessing  himself  of  the  property  which  should 
have  been  of  right  mine.     One  day  when  his  wife  was 


THE   LIFE    OF   A  BOOK   AGENT.  175 

visiting  me,  smarting  under  a  sense  of  my  wrongs,  I  had 
unjustly  and  ungratefully  (for  had  she  not  nursed  me  back 
to  life  from  the  very  door  of  death's  gloomy  pavilion  ?)  ac- 
cused her  of  being  a  party  to  her  husband's  wrong — an  ac- 
cusation which  she  resented  with  proper  spirit ;  and  the  re- 
sult had  been  an  entire  cessation  of  intercourse  between  us. 
Oh!  how  often  and  bitterly  have  I  repented  my  injustice 
and  ingratitude ;  but  what  availed  my  repentance  ?  I  never 
saw  her  again — she  died  when  I  was  far  away,  without 
my  ears  being  gladdened  by  the  sound  of  her  whispered 
pardon ;  and  yet  I  know  that  her  pure  spirit  has  long  since 
forgiven  the  great  wrong  I  then  heaped  upon  her. 

No  sooner  had  I  determined  upon  my  course  of  action, 
than  I  hastened  to  carry  it  into  effect.  I  sold  out  my 
furniture,  gave  up  the  lease  of  my  house,  found  a  good 
place*  for  Carrie  (for  I  did  not  wish  to  take  her  with  me 
until  I  became  settled),  wrote  a  note  to  Captain  Lake, 
telling  him  my  reasons  for  leaving,  but  not  where  I  had 
gone ;  and,  with  the  little  means  realized  from  the  sacrifice 
of  my  property,  set  out  to  commence  life  anew  in  the 
Garden  City  of  the  great  West,  without  a  single  plan  of 
my  future  course  in  earning  a  livelihood. 
12 


176  ANNIE   NELLES;   OE, 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

In  due  time  I  arrived  at  Chicago,  and  stopped  at  the 
Massasoit  House,  at  the  corner  of  Dearborn  and  Randolph 
streets,  where,  however,  I  remained  but  one  night.  My 
means  were  by  far  too  limited  to  allow  me  to  remain  there, 
or  anywhere  else,  in  idleness,  and  my  first  care  was  to 
find  some  cheap  but  respectable  boarding-house,  conven- 
iently located  for  carrying  on  the  occupation  I  had  determ- 
ined to  adopt,  for  a  time  at  least — that  of  a  plain  seam- 
stress. 

I  succeeded  in  finding  a  very  comfortable  room,  and 

reasonably  good  fare,  at  the  house  of  a  Mr. ,  near  the 

corner  of  Lake  and  Halstead  streets,  for  which  I  paid,  in 
advance,  the  sum  of  seven  dollars  per  week.  In  view  of 
the  fact  that  I  had  less  than  three  hundred  dollars  in  my 
possession,  a  part  of  which  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
for  me  to  lay  out  in  clothing,  the  price  seemed  to  me  very 
high ;  but,  nevertheless,  it  was  the  best  I  could  do,  and  I 
comforted  myself  with  the  reflection  that  I  could  earn  at 
least  this  amount  each  week  with  my  needle.  Poor  fool 
that  I  was  ?  I  did  not  then  know  that  sewing-women  do 
not  live  by  their  work — that  they  sew  and  starve,  while 
wealthy  manufacturers  reap  the  reward  of  their  toil.  Nor 
did  I  know  that,  before  I  could  get  any  work,  the  most  fear- 
ful inroads  would  be  made  upon  the  little  pittance  I  had 
brought  from  Detroit. 

As  soon  as  I  had  secured  my  room  and  adjusted  my 
furniture  (and  scanty  enough  it  was,  let  me  assure  you,)  to 
my  satisfaction,  I  set  out  in  search  of  employment,  for  I 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  177 

realized  the  fact  that  I  could  not  live  in  idleness  and  pay- 
seven  dollars  a-week  for  my  board.  And,  even  if  I  had 
been  able,  I  could  never  have  ventured  to  sit  down  with- 
out employment  of  some  sort  to  divert  my  mind  from  the 
contemplation  of  the  gloomy  past,  and  the  fearful  appre- 
hension of  the  future.  The  dread  of  discovery  by  Mason 
had  received  a  new  impetus  from  the  momentary  view  I 
had  had  of  him  in  the  streets  of  Detroit,  and  this  fear, 
together  with  the  contemplation  of  the  past,  would  have 
driven  me  wild  had  I  remained  idle.  So,  with  as  stout 
and  brave  a  heart  as  I  could  conjure  up,  but  feeling, 
nevertheless,  a  little  like  "  a  cat  in  a  strange  garret,"  I 
went  forth.  And  the  history  of  my  adventures  in  search 
of  the  employment  I  sought — the  rebuffs  and  refusals  with 
w^hich  I  met  on  every  hand — the  covert  sneers  and  almost 
open  insults  with  which  my  applications  were  frequently 
answered — the  heart-sickness  with  which,  as  refusal  after 
refusal  were  meted  out  to  me,  I  pursued  my  self-imposed 
task — all  these,  if  written  out  in  full,  would  make  a  volume 
much  larger  than  the  one,  dear  reader,  now  before  you. 
But  my  heart  would  fail  me  were  I  to  undertake  to  write 
them  out,  and  yours  would  weary  in  reading  them,  and  for 
both  our  sakes  I  forbear.  A  few  instances  must  suffice  to 
illustrate  the  treatment  I  encountered. 

One  of  the  first  places  at  which  I  called  was  a  large 
retail  clothing  store,  but  a  short  distance  from  my  boarding 
place.  I  omit  the  name  and  location  of  the  house  for  the 
reason  that  I  have  not  enough  good-will  toward  them  to 
care  about  advertising  for  them  free  of  charge. 

As  I  entered  the  door,  a  spruce,  dapper-looking  little 
clerk  came  forward,  bowing  and  scraping;  but  when  he 
came  near  enough  to  see,  from  my  dress,  that  I  was  not 
one  of  the  ton^  but  simply  a  working  girl,  his  excessive 


178  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

politeness  vanished  in  a  moment,  his  back  stiffened,  and 
his  manners  became  almost  freezing  in  their  cold  formality. 

"  Good  morning,  ma'am,  anything  wanting  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  I,  a  little  haughtily,  for  I  felt  somewhat 
piqued  at  his  manner ;   "  is  the  proprietor  in  ?" 

"  I  do  n't  know  whether  he  is  or  not.  Did  you  want 
anything  in  particular  ?"  said  my  dapper  friend. 

^'Yes,  sir;  I  wish  to  see  him." 

"Jem,"  calling  out  to  a  boy  who  was  lounging  in  the 

back  part  of  the  store,  "  won't  you  see  if  Mr. is  in  ? 

Here 's  a  person  wants  to  see  him." 

"  Jem  "  departed  on  his  errand,  while  the  gentlemanly  (?) 
clerk  stood  watching  me  as  though  he  suspected  I  intended 
to  steal  something.  After  a  time  he  came  leisurely  for- 
ward, and,  in  a  drawling  tone,  informed  me  that  Mr. 

would  see  me.  Following  him  into  the  counting-room,  I 
found  myself  in  the  presence  of  a  fat,  pompous  old  gen- 
tleman, of  about  fifty  years  of  age,  somewhat  bald-headed, 
and  wearing  enormous  gold  spectacles. 

"  Good  morning,  madam,"  said  he,  very  pompously ;  "did 
you  wish  to  see  me  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  am  in  search  of  employment.  Have  you 
any  plain  sewing  that  you  wish  done  ?" 

"Well,  yes,"  he  replied  slowly,  scanning  me  closely 
through  his  spectacles ;  "  we  have  a  good  deal  of  sewing 
to  do ;  have  you  ever  sewed  much  ?" 

"  Considerably,"  I  replied. 

"  Of  course,  you  have  references ;  let  me  look  at  them." 

This  was  a  poser.  I  had,  as  the  reader  is  aware,  but 
just  arrived  in  Chicago,  and  knew  not  a  single  soul  there, 
and  where  was  I  to  look  for  references  ?  For  a  short  time 
I  stood  silent  and  undecided  what  to  say  or  do  ?  At  last 
I  managed  to  falter  out  that  I  had  but  just  come  to  Chicago, 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  179 

was  a  stranger,  etc.,  but  was  suddenly  interrupted  by  my 
pompous  friend  with — 

""  Well,  madam,  if  you  can  not  give  us  good  references, 
we  can  not  give  you  work.  We  never  employ  any  whom 
we  do  not  know,  without  the  best  of  references.  "Jem," 
calling  the  boy  who  had  conducted  me  thither,  "  show  this 
lady  to  the  door,"  and,  waving  his  hand  with  a  lordly  air, 
he  dismissed  me  without  further  ceremony. 

This  was  the  result  of  my  first  effort,  and  it  was  far 
from  reassuring  to  the  shrinking  spirit  with  which  I  had 
set  out.  For  a  time  my  heart  was  full,  and  I  was  almost 
tempted  to  return  to  my  lodgings  and  make  no  further  at- 
tempts that  day  at  obtaining  employment.  But,  remem- 
bering that  my  financial  status  would  admit  of  no  sickly 
sentimentality,  or  shrinking,  because  of  a  single  rebuff,  I 
once  more  set  out.  After  visiting  several  places  without 
meeting  with  any  success,  I  at  last  found  myself  face  to 
face  with  a  little  bullet-headed,  hard-featured  wretch,  who, 
when  I  made  my  errand  known,  replied  briskly: 

"  Oh  !  yes.  We  have  lots  of  work  to  do.  What  do 
you  prefer,  pants  or  plain  shirts  ?" 

"  What  prices  do  you  pay  for  each  ?" 

"  One  shilling  and  sixpence  for  pants,  such  as  we  would 
want  you  to  make,  and  two  shillings  for  shirts.  How 
many  will  you  have  ?" 

"  What  prices  did  you  say,  sir  ?"  said  I  chokingly,  for 
the  idea  of  trying  to  earn  seven  dollars  at  such  rates  as 
these  filled  me  with  dismay. 

"  Eighteen  pence  for  pants  and  two  shillings  for  shirts." 

"  But  how  do  you  expect  me  to  make  a  living  at  those 
prices?" 

"That  is  not  our  look-out,  madam,"  he  replied  heart- 
lessly; "those  are  our  prices,  and  if  you  do  not  wish  to 


180  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

work  for  them  you  can  go  elsewhere.  We  can  get  plenty 
of  hands  to  sew  for  that.  What  say  you  ?  Time  is  pre- 
cious," said  he,  pulling  out  and  glancing  at  a  large  and 
showy-looking  gold  watch,  filched,  no  doubt,  from  the  toil 
of  sewing  girls  to  whom  he  had  paid  the  magnificent 
prices  he  had  just  offered  me. 

"  SayT'  I  replied  indignantly,  "  I  say  that  I  will  sooner 
starve  without  work  than  starve  at  such  prices  as  you 
offer." 

"  Just  as  you  please,  ma'am ;  it  is  none  of  our  business, 
you  know,"  replied  he,  coolly,  and  I  went  out  from  his 
presence,  feeling  that  the  only  difference  between  him  and 
the  Southern  slave-driver  was,  that  this  man,  born  and 
reared  in  the  North,  was  much  the  worse  of  the  two.  They 
both  believed  that  capital  should  own  labor,  but  while  the 
Southerner  would  make  slaves  of  his  inferiors,  and  would 
furnish  them  enough  to  eat  and  wear,  such  as  it  was,  this 
Northerner  would  subject  to  the  most  galling  bondage  his 
kinsmen  and  equals,  and  would  deny  them  the  miserable 
pittance  sufficient  to  keep  them  from  starvation  and 
nakedness. 

But  why  weary  my  readers  with  detailed  accounts  of 
my  efforts  to  procure  employment,  at  prices  which  would 
enable  me  to  keep  the  gaunt  wolf  of  starvation  from  my 
door;  the  wearisome  search,  day  after  day,  until  my  heart 
was  almost  ready  to  sink  with  the  weight  of  despair;  the 
cold,  heartless,  sneering  rebuffs  and  repulses  which  every- 
where met  me,  until  it  seemed  to  me  that  my  brain  must 
go  wild,  and  I  sink  into  the  abyss  of  shame  and  degrada- 
tion which  I  saw  around  me  on  every  hand,  engulphing 
thousands  of  those  whose  lots  were  cast  in  the  same 
mold  with  mine  ?  Suffice  it  to  say  that  I  still  struggled 
on,  vainly  hoping  against  hope,  working  at  such  employ- 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  181 

ment  as  I  could  get,  even  at  starvation  prices,  until  at 
last  my  strength  failed  in  the  unequal  strife,  and  I  was 
prostrated  upon  a  bed  of  sickness,  from  which,  but  for  the 
sake  of  my  helpless  Carrie,  I  should  have  prayed  that  I 
might  never  rise. 

How  I  lived  through  that  long  night  of  sickness,  among 
strangers,  and  with  no  loving  friend  near  me  to  bathe  my 
fevered  brow  or  cool  my  parched  lips,  or  even  to  adminis- 
ter the  remedies  which  the  physician  prescribed  for  me 
from  time  to  time,  I  hardly  know.  It  is  true,  my  landlady 
was  kind  to  me,  and  gave  me  all  the  attention  which  her 
own  household  and  other  duties  would  permit;  but  she 
had  her  own  family  and  boarders  to  care  for,  and  she  could 
spare  but  little  of  her  time  for  me.  Long  time  I  lingered 
at  death's  door,  but  at  last  my  constitution  triumphed, 
and  I  began  slowly  to  mend,  and  at  length  was  able  to 
rise  and  walk  about  my  room.  I  even  tried  to  do  some 
work,  but  when  I  bent  my  eyes  upon  my  sewing,  my  brain 
whirled  and  I  almost  fainted  from  sheer  weakness,  and 
when  my  physician  called  to  pay  me  his  customary  visit, 
be  found  me  with  a  very  considerable  increase  of  fever. 

He  at  once  forbade,  most  peremptorily,  any  farther  at- 
tempts at  work,  and,  instead,  ordered  me  to  take  exercise 
in  walking,  extending,  however,  my  promenades  no  farther 
than  I  could  do  without  incurring  too  much  fatigue.  At 
first  my  strolls  were  very  short  —  not  more  than  half  a 
block — but  my  strenth  gradually  increased  under  this 
treatment,  and  in  a  short  time  I  was  able  to  walk  half 
an  hour  without  any  great  weariness.  Oh  !  how  I  longed  to 
get  strong  and  able  to  renew  my  struggle  with  the  world. 
And,  indeed,  stern  necessity  demanded  it;  for  during  my 
long  illness  my  little  treasury  had  entirely  dwindled  away, 
and  I  had  even  been  compelled  to  part  with  some  portions 


182  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

of  my  scanty  wardrobe  to  supply  the  necessities  occasioned 
by  sickness.  My  board,  too,  was  considerably  in  arrears, 
and  though  my  landlady  was  very  kind,  and  never  alluded  to 
the  matter,  this  gave  me  no  little  uneasiness,  and  doubtless 
contributed  materially  to  retard  my  restoration  to  strength. 
But  relief  was  at  hand,  and  that,  too,  from  a  source  of 
which  I  did  not  dream. 

One  day,  as  I  was  taking  my  accustomed  walk,  I  turned 
a  corner  and  found  myself  face  to  face  with  my  step-father. 
Captain  Charles  Lake.  I  was  so  filled  with  hysterical 
joy  at  seeing  him  that,  for  the  moment,  I  was  incapable 
of  speech  or  action.  »Nor  was  his  surprise  at  the  meeting 
less  than  my  own,  although  less  visible  effect  was  produced 
upon  him.  Coming  close  up  to  me  he  extended  his  hand, 
and  said : 

"  Annie,  my  child,  is  this  indeed  you  ?" 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  bursting  into  tears  of  joy,  for  I  saw 
at  once  exemption  from  the  miseries  which  had  so  sorely 
weighed  me  down ;  "  I  am,  indeed,  your  wretched,  unhappy 
daughter." 

"  Where  are  you  living  ?"  he  continued  kindly.  ''  You 
look  as  though  you  had  been  sick." 

"  Indeed  I  have.  I  have  been  sick  both  in  body  and 
mind.  But,  come  home  with  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  all 
that  has  happened  since  I  left  Detroit. 

Drawing  my  arm  within  his  own,  the  Captain  accom- 
panied me  home,  where  I  acquainted  him  with  all  that 
had  transpired,  and  with  which  the  reader  is  already  fa- 
miliar. He  seemed  much  moved  at  the  recital  of  my 
sufferings,  and  at  its  close,  said : 

"  Poor  child !  you  have  had  a  hard  time,  but  it  is  now 
all  past.  You  must  go  home  with  me,  and  Mary  shall 
nurse  you  back  to  health  and  happiness  again.     I  shall 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  183 

be  ready  to  leave  the  city  to-morrow,  and  in  the  mean  time 
you  must  get  ready  to  go  with  me." 

But  at  this,  the  recollection  of  the  injustice  I  had  done 
her  flashed  across  my  mind  and  suffused  my  face  with  a 
crimson  glow,  and  I  at  once  replied  that  I  could  not  think 
of  going  there. 

"  Why  not  ?"  he  asked,  in  some  astonishment. 

And  then  I  told  him  that  I  had  done  Mary  a  great 
wrong,  and  that  in  no  event  could  I  go  there  to  be  a  depend- 
ent upon  her  bounty.  In  vain  he  urged  me  to  go,  or  at 
least  to  reveal  to  him  fully  the  reasons  which  so  power- 
fully deterred  me.  I  was  well  aware  that  I  had  done  her 
a  gross  injustice,  and  no  amount  of  persuasion  could  ever 
have  induced  me  to  open  to  him  the  subject  of  that  injus- 
tice. When  he  found  that  I  was  not  to  be  shaken,  he 
said: 

"  Well,  I  will  not  insist  further.  You  will  at  least  allow 
me  to  make  provision  to  avoid  in  the  future  such  sujGfering 
as  you  have  been  subjected  to  since  coming  here." 

To  this  I  consented,  of  course ;  and,  seating  himself  at 
the  table,  he  drew  up  an  agreement  binding  himself  to  pay 
me  seventy-five  dollars  per  month,  and  a  letter  of  credit 
authorizing  me  to  draw  upon  his  bankers  at  Detroit  for 
the  same,  which  he  delivered  to  me,  then  called  my  land- 
lady and  discharged  my  indebtedness  to  her  in  full,  after 
which  he  bid  me  an  affectionate  farewell,  and  I  never  saw 
him  more.  He,  like  the  rest  of  my  friends,  has  passed 
away,  but  the  memory  of  this  deed  of  kindness  will  never 
be  effaced  from  my  recollection.  It  has  almost  entirely 
obliterated  from  my  mind  the  memory  of  the  great  wrong 
which  he  undeniably  did  to  me  in  my  childhood,  and  I 
fully  forgive  him  all. 

When  my  step-father  had  gone,  I  sat  down  and  began 


184  ANNIE   NELLES;    OE, 

to  consider  what  was  best  for  me  to  do.  I  did  not  intend 
to  leave  Chicago,  for  I  must  live  some  where,  and  I  was 
just  as  effectually  concealed  from  the  pursuit  of  Mason 
there  as  any  where,  and  that  concealment  was  now  the 
prime  consideration.  I  finally  decided  to  try  keeping 
house,  believing  that  it  would  be  less  expensive  than 
boarding,  and  that  I  would  feel  much  more  independent 
than  I  now  did. 

Accordingly,  I  set  out  in  search  of  rooms  to  rent,  but 
for  some  time  I  was  as  unsuccessful  as  in  pursuit  of  em- 
ployment. But,  after  some  days  spent  in  search,  I  was 
fortunate  enough  to  find  some  rooms  to  let  on  the  second 
floor  of  a  house  at  No.  51  West  Lake  street.  There  were 
four  rooms  —  more  than  I  wanted,  and  the  rent  conse- 
quently higher  than  I  wished  to  pay ;  but  this  was  the 
only  opportunity  presented,  and  I  decided  to  take  them, 
thinking  perhaps  I  could  rent  one  or  two  of  them,  or,  fail- 
ing in  that,  could  take  one  or  two  boarders,  and  so  reduce 
my  expenses  within  something  like  reasonable  limits.  I 
drew  my  first  draft  on  Detroit,  paid  my  rent  for  a  month 
in  advance,  and  on  the  eighteenth  day  of  November,  1865, 
took  possession  of  my  rooms,  and  advertised  for  boarders. 

I  had  become  acquainted  with  a  young  lady  by  the 

name  of  Rosa ,  a  seamstress,  and  a  very  lively, 

intelligent  girl,  of  good  principles,  and  a  very  agreeable 
companion.  As  soon  as  she  knew  I  was  taking  boarders, 
she  came  to  apply  for  a  place  with  me,  and  was  my  first 
boarder.  Two  young  gentlemen,  who  were  employed  in  a 
store,  immediately  below  us,  applied,  and  were  received  as 
day  boarders ;  others  also  made  application,  and,  in  a  short 
time,  I  had  all  the  boarders  that  my  rooms  would  enable 
me  to  accommodate,  and,  for  a  time,  I  got  along  very  well 
indeed.    But  my  unlucky  star  was  stiU  in  the  ascendant, 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  185 

and  it  was  in  this  boarding-house  that  I  found  some  ac- 
quaintances who  were  doomed  to  exert  a  most  baneful  in- 
fluence upon  my  future  life. 

The  first  was  a  man  by  the  name  of  Alvord.  He  was  a 
constable,  and  was  doing  some  business  for  a  boarder,  who 
had  some  difficulty  with  a  former  employer  about  a  bal- 
ance of  wages  due  him.  He  called  several  times  to  see  him 
on  this  business,  much  to  my  disgust,  for  I  believed  he  was 
a  bad  man,  and  took  no  pains  to  conceal  my  dislike  of  him. 
This  aroused  his  ill-feeling  toward  me,  and  when,  at  a  fu- 
ture period,  an  opportunity  was  presented  him  of  wiping 
out  the  old  score,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  rep^y  me  with  in- 
terest. 

It  was  here,  too,  that  I  formed  the  acquaintance  of  him 
whose  name  I  now  bear — a  man  who,  with  the  exception, 
perhaps,  of  Mason,  has  caused  me  more  suffering  than 
any  other  one  with  whom  my  checkered  life  has  brought 
me  in  contact.  But  I  reserve  for  another  chapter  an 
account  of  the  incidents  attending  our  introduction  and 
subsequent  acquaintance  and  marriage. 


188  ANNIE   NELLES ;   OR, 


CHAPTER  XV. 

One  evening,  a  few  moments  before  tea-time,  a  gentle- 
man called,  in  answer  to  an  advertisement  which  I  had 
sent  to  one  of  the  Chicago  papers.  He  was  very  polite 
in  his  manners,  and  of  genteel  appearance,  and  intro- 
duced himself  as  Mr.  Frank  C.  Nelles.  I  was  favorably 
impressed  with  him  at  first  sight,  though,  of  course,  not 
the  slightest  thought  of  love  at  that  time  entered  my 
mind.  I  only  looked  upon  him  as  a  very  pleasant,  good- 
natured  and  sensible  fellow,  though  he  appeared  very 
quiet,  and  rather  inclined  to  be  reserved,  as  he  really  was. 
Little  did  I  then  foresee,  or  even  anticipate  in  the  least 
degree,  the  sorrow  and  misery  to  me,  of  which  that  man 
was  to  be  the  author. 

He  staid  and  spent  the  evening  with  us,  and  a  very 
pleasant  evening  we  had.  There  were  Miss  Rose  and  an- 
other lady  boarder,  threes  young  gentlemen,  Mr.  Nelles 
and  myself.  All  were  in  good  spirits,  and  the  hours  flew 
by  unheeded  until  eleven  o'clock  struck,  when  the  party 
separated.  I  invited  Mr.  Nelles  to  call  again,  and  he  ac- 
cepted the  invitation  with  thanks. 

From  this  time  he  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  my  house, 
and  was  always  gladly  welcomed.  I  had  made  inquiries 
about  him,  and  learned  that  he  bore  a  good  character,  and 
was  considered  very  respectable  in  the  community  in 
which  he  lived — that  he  occupied  a  responsible  position 
in  the  employ  of  the  street  railroad  company,  and  was 
supposed  by  his  steadiness  and  prompt  attention  to  duty, 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  189 

to  be  accumulating  some  property,  while  he  was  constantly 
rising  in  the  estimation  and  confidence  of  his  employers. 
The  evidence  as  to  his  character  was  certainly  satisfactory 
in  the  highest  degree,  and  he  was  soon  established  on  the 
footing  of  a  warm  and  valued  friend  at  the  house.  For  a 
long  time  his  visits,  though  frequent,  were  general,  and 
excited  no  remark — that  is,  no  one  of  the  ladies  seemed 
to  be  the  special  object  of  his  visit,  or  to  receive  more  atten- 
tion from  him  than  another,  nor  did  he  ever  inquire  for 
one  more  than  another. 

He  had  always  been  inclined  to  reticence  concerning 
himself  and  his  circumstances,  but  I  had  learned  from 
him  that  he  was  a  widower,  and  was  still  keeping  house 
in  the  same  place  where  he  had  lived  with  his  former 
wife.  When  he  told  me  this,  I  asked  him  jestingly  if  he 
kept  bachelor's  hall,  and  told  him  Rosa  and  I  were  com- 
ing around  to  see  where  and  how  he  lived.  He  replied,  in 
the  same  light,  trifling  style,  that  nothing  would  afford  him 
more  pleasure ;  that  he  did  not  live  alone,  but  had  a  house- 
keeper, but  that  she  did  very  poorly,  and  we  would  not 
find  the  house  a  very  attractive  one.  But  while  we  thus 
jested,  I  had  no  idea  of  ever  carrying  out  my  senseless 
proposition — it  was  only  made  in  a  spirit  of  playful  badi- 
nage, and  with  no  idea  of  its  ever  being  thought  of  again. 

I  was  therefore  not  a  little  surprised  when,  some  days 
after  the  conversation,  Rosa  proposed  that  we  should  carry 
out  our  promise,  and  visit  Mr.  Nelles  at  his  home.  I  asked 
her  if  she  supposed  I  was  in  earnest  when  the  proposition 
was  made,  to  which  she  replied  that  she  did  not  know 
whether  I  was  in  earnest  or  not ;  that  she  was,  and  that 
she  had  determined  to  go  that  very  afternoon,  and  that 
she  would  have  no  excuse,  but  I  must  go  with  her.  I 
asked  her  if  she  thought  it  was  exactly  proper  for  us  to 


190  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

visit  a  gentleman  at  his  lodgings,  to  which  she  answered 
that  it  was  altogether  different  from  that ;  that  we  were 
not  going  to  visit  a  gentleman  at  his  lodgings,  but  at  his 
house,  presided  over,  as  he  had  informed  us,  by  a  lady  who 
was  his  housekeeper,  and  that  there  would  be  no  impro- 
priety in  our  doing  so ;  that  go  she  would,  and  go  with 
her  I  must.  I  advanced  numerous  other  objections  but 
without  avail ;  she  overruled  them  all,  and .  insisted  so 
strongly  that  I  was  finally  silenced,  if  not  convinced,  and 
against  my  better  judgment  consented  to  accompany  her. 
Beside,  if  the  truth  must  be  confessed,  I  felt  a  little  anx- 
iety to  follow  the  matter  out  to  the  end,  and  see  what 
was  to  be  seen ;  and,  accordingly,  after  dinner  we  equipped 
ourselves  for  walking  and  set  out.  It  must  be  admitted 
.to  the  reader,  though  we  did  not  at  the  time  mention  it  to 
each  other,  that  we  both  had  some  secret  misgivings  as 
to  the  course  we  were  pursuing,  but  we  were  both  ani- 
mated by  the  spirit  of  fun  and  adventure,  and  were  re- 
solved to  follow  it  out  to  the  end.  I  omitted  to  mention 
in  the  proper  place,  that  Nelles  had  told  us  he  had  three 
children  by  his  first  wife,  only  one  of  whom,  however, 
lived  with  him.  ^ 

Well,  we  went  to  the  house  where  he  had  informed  us 
he  lived.  We  found  a  store  in  the  front  part  of  the  house, 
went  to  the  rear,  which  appeared  to  be  finished  as  a  dwell- 
ing-house, and  knocked  at  the  door,  but  received  no 
answer.  The  only  sign  of  life  was  a  little  dog  inside,  bark- 
ing most  furiously  at  what  he  evidently  deemed  an  at- 
tempted intrusion  upon  the  premises  which  he  had  been 
left  to  guard.  We  then  went  to  the  place  where  Mr. 
Nelles  worked,  and  were  there  told  that  he  had  just  gone 
to  the  house.  Again  we  returned  to  the  house,  and  still 
finding  nobody  there,  we  went  to  the  store  in  front,  and 


THE    LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  191 

inquired  if  there  was  a  man  by  the  name  of  Nelles  living 
in  that  neighborhood,  and  were  informed  that  he  lived  in 
the  rear  of  that  building.  We  then  inquired  how  many 
there  were  in  his  family.  They  replied  they  did  not  know, 
but  that,  when  he  rented  the  house,  he  mentioned,  inci- 
dentally, that  he  was  going  to  occupy  it  with  his  wife. 

By  the  time  we  had  finished  our  inquiries,  Mr.  Nelles 
came  up,  and  we  at  once  accosted  him,  asking  about  his 
own  health  and  that  of  his  wife,  telling  him  we  heard  she 
had  just  gone  down  in  town,  etc.  There  was  a  lady  just 
crossing  the  street  in  front  of  the  store,  and  he  called  our 
attention  to  her,  telling  us  there  she  came;  and,  as  soon  as 
she  unlocked  the  house,  he  would  go  in  with  us  and  give 
us  an  introduction  to  her.  We  accordingly  went  in  with 
him,  and  were  introduced  to  the  lady,  but  not  as  Mrs.  Nelles; 
he  called  her  Miss  Carney,  and  informed  us  she  was  his 
housekeeper. 

We  staid  some  time,  and  had  a  very  pleasant  visit,  for 
Miss  Carney  could  be  very  interesting  and  pleasant  when 
she  chose ;  and  that  afternoon  she  seemed  to  take  special 
pains  to  make  herself  agreeable.  She  was  then  in  good 
humor,  and  did  all  in  her  power  to  entertain  us  in  the  most 
lady-like  manner.  I  afterward  knew,  to  my  sorrow,  how 
differently  she  could  act  toward  one  whom  she  regarded 
as  an  enemy,  as  will  more  fully  appear  in  the  sequel  of  my 
story. 

At  length  I  decided  it  was  time  for  us  to  go,  and  said 
as  much  to  Rosa,  to  which  she  assented,  and  we  rose  to 
take  our  departure.  Miss  Carney  protested  against  our 
going,  and  urged  us,  very  earnestly,  to  stay  to  tea ;  but 
we  refused,  and  were  soon  on  our  way  home.  Mr.  Nelles 
accompanied  us ;  and,  when  we  reached  home,  he  went  in, 
took  tea,  and  afterward  spent  the  evening  with  us.    This 


192  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

was,  to  me,  a  fatal  evening,  for  it  was  the  one  upon  which 
I  gave  up  to  Frank  C.  Nelles  my  freedom,  my  individual- 
ity, and  upon  which  I  once  more  agreed  to  take  upon  my- 
self the  fearful  duties  and  responsihilities  of  married  life. 
It  was  upon  this  evening  that  I  entered  into  a  contract 
of  marriage  which  was  to  fill  to  overflowing  my  cup  of 
misery. 

I  had  now  been  acquainted  with  Frank  C.  Nelles  for 
several  months,  and  had  seen  nothing  to  indicate  that  he 
was  the  monster  he  afterward  turned  out  to  be — nay,  now, 
I  will  confess  that  his  kind  and  genial  disposition,  his  (as 
I  supposed)  steady  character  and  correct  habits,  had 
awakened  feelings  in  my  bosom  which  I  supposed  would 
never  exist  there  again,  and  I  already  regarded  him  with 
more  of  favor  than  I  usually  bestowed  upon  my  friends. 
I  will  not  admit  that  I  really  loved  him  at  this  time,  but  I 
thought  very  kindly  of  him;  and  though  he  never  said 
anything,  or  indicated  any  marked  preference  for  me,  yet 
I  knew,  by  some  sort  of  intuition — by  that  instinctive 
feeling  that  pervades  a  woman's  bosom — that  he  thought 
more  of  me  than  he  did  of  either  of  the  other  ladies  at 
the  house.  He  had  never  called  to  see  me  more  than 
any  one  else ;  he  had  never  inquired  particularly  for  me ; 
he  had  never  specially  sought  my  society  at  the  house, 
and  yet  I  knew,  in  some  indefinable  way,  that  I  was 
dearer  to  him  than  either  of  the  others. 

I  was  not,  therefore,  very  much  surprised  when,  seizing 
a  favorable  opportunity,  he  asked  me  to  be  his  wife.  He 
recalled  the  circumstances  of  our  acquaintance ;  told  how 
lonely  he  had  felt  since  the  death  of  his  first  wife;  how 
bis  home  needed  the  watchful  care  of  one  whose  inter- 
ests were  identified  with  his ;  how  he  had  watched  and 
studied  my  character;  how  he  thought  we  could  be  happy 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  193 

together,  and  begged  me  to  take  pity  on  his  loneliness  and 
make  him  blessed  by  becoming  his  wife. 

I  said  I  was  not  surprised,  but,  to  some  extent,  I  was ; 
for,  though  I  felt  very  confident  such  a  proposition  would 
some  time  be  made,  still  it  was  unexpected  at  this  time, 
and  my  answer  was  not  ready.  I  therefore  pleaded  sur- 
prise, and  begged  time  to  consider  of  the  matter  before 
giving  him  a  decided  answer  to  a  question  of  such  tre- 
mendous importance.  He  acceded  to  this,  and  we  parted 
for  the  night.  I  did  not  tell  Rosa,  with  whom  I  glept,  of 
the  proposition  which  had  been  made  to  me,  but  chose  to 
keep  it  within  my  own  breast  until  I  had  finally  decided 
upon  it,  although  there  remained,  in  my  own  mind,  but 
little  doubt  that  it  would  be  finally  accepted.  But  I  had 
once  accepted  such  a  proposition  in  haste,  and  the  result 
had  been  the  most  unmitigated  woe,  and  I  was  now  deter- 
mined to  deliberate  well  before  acting;  and  yet  all  my 
deliberation  was  in  vain,  as  subsequent  events  will  show. 

Nelles  was  to  come,  at  the  end  of  a  week,  for  his  final 
answer.  I  was  alone  in  the  world;  for  Captain  Lake 
had  taken  Carrie  and  sent  her  to  a  sister  of  his  in  New 
Orleans,  who  was  rich  and  would  raise  her  like  a  lady, 
and  I  had  nothing  to  care  for  except  two  little  canary 
birds.  Why  not  marry  him,  and  end  all  my  troubles  for 
this  life  at  once  ?  Beside,  it  was  not  my  nature  to  be  alone 
in  the  world ;  I  was  so  constituted  that  I  must  have  some- 
body to  love;  some  one  toward  whom  the  love  of  my 
heart  would  go  out  like  a  mighty,  rushing  torrent,  and 
why  not  him  ?  I  was  sure  I  loved  him  more  than  I  loved 
Giles  (or  Mason)  when  I  married  him,  and  surely  I  had 
seen  some  happy  days  in  my  married  life  (for  so  I  per- 
sisted in  calling  it)  with  him  before  my  peace  was  all 
destroyed  by  the  evidence  of  his  unworthiness ;  and  I 
13 


194  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

thought  it  was  reasonably  certain  that  the  same  cause  for 
unhappiness  did  not  exist  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Nelles. 

But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  I  had  thought  I  would 
never  marry  again;  my  past  experience  had  not  favorably 
impressed  me  with  the  joys  of  married  life,  and  I  hesi- 
tated before  entering  into  that  state  again.  Beside,  if  I 
married  Nelles  or  any  one  else,  the  seventy-five  dollars 
which  Captain  Lake  had  kindly  settled  upon  me,  monthly, 
would  end,  and  would  the  sacrifice  pay  me. 

But  why  recount  all  my  cogitations  upon  this  point. 
Such  reflections  ever  have  but  one  end,  and  hence  the 
reader  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  when  Mr.  Nelles 
came  for  his  final  answer,  I  laid  my  hand  in  his,  and  prom- 
ised him  that,  God  being  my  helper,  I  would  be  to  him  a 
true  and  faithful  wife  so  long  as  we  both  should  live.  And 
to  this  day,  I  call  high  Heaven  to  witness  that  I  kept 
faithfully  that  vow  until  his  tyranny  and  brutality  drove 
me  from  home  and  placed  it  out  of  my  power  to  keep  it 
any  longer. 

There  was  one  thing  in  connection  with  our  engage- 
ment in  which  my  conscience  does  not  acquit  me  of  all 
blame,  and  that  was  in  relation  to  the  dark  and  gloomy 
scenes  in  my  past  life  and  history.  I  did  not  impart  them 
to  him.  It  may  be  possible  that,  had  I  done  so,  it  would 
have  spared  us  both  some  trouble  in  the  future,  but  I  could 
not  bring  myself  to  speak  of  it.  My  life  had  been  such 
a  gloomy,  barren  one ;  there  was  so  little  to  commend, 
and  so  much  that  was  a  source  of  shame  and  self-reproach 
to  me,  that  when  I  would  speak  of  it,  I  was  silent  from 
very  shame,  and  my  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth, 
and  I  postponed  it  from  time  to  time,  thinking  I  would  re- 
veal the  sad  history  to  him  after  we  were  married,  would 
disclose  to  him  the  reasons  which  had  induced  me  to  keep 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  195 

Silent,  and  would  rely  upon  his  kindness  and  mercy  to  for- 
give the  deception  I  was  practicing  upon  him.  And  here 
was  committed  one  of  the  worst  errors  of  my  life.  Far 
better  for  me  had  the  revelation  been  made  before  our  en- 
gagement was  consummated,  and  trusted  to  his  affection 
for  me  to  overcome  the  effects  of  such  a  sad  recital  as 
mine,  than  to  leave  him  to  learn  it  in  an  exaggerated  and 
distorted  form  from  another  source,  while  to  the  intrinsic 
evil  of  the  story,  would  be  added,  in  his  mind,  the  reflec- 
tion that  I  had  deceived  him.  The  fullest  and  freest  con- 
fidence should  be  maintained  between  affianced  lovers  at 
all  times ;  just  as  full  and  complete  as  that  which  should 
exist  between  husband  and  wife.  Nay,  I  insist  that  wedded 
love  will  tolerate  even  more  concealment,  than  will  sim- 
ply plighted  faith;  because,  while  the  first  is  prone  to  cre- 
ate the  most  unbounded  confidence,  the  last  is  proverbial 
for  its  suspicion  and  its  jealousy.  How  important,  then, 
is  it  that  in  no  case  any  concealments  be  suffered  to  exist 
during  the  engagement,  if  we  would  avoid  misery  and  woe 
during  the  wedded  life  which  is  to  ensue.  But  I  did  not 
then  practice  upon  this  principle,  and  to  this  cause  may  be 
attributed  no  small  portion  of  my  subsequent  sorrow. 

I  have  not  told  the  reader  anything  about  the  family  of 
my  betrothed,  and  will  now  turn  for  a  short  time  to  them. 
His  father  had  been  dead  some  time,  but  he  had  a  mother 
and  several  brothers  living  at  Waukegan,  of  whom  he  had 
frequently  spoken,  but  none  of  whom  I  had  ever  seen.  He 
also  had  two  married  sisters  living  in  Chicago,  one  of 
whom  I  had  seen  at  the  time  we  plighted  our  faith  to  each 
other,  but  the  other  I  had  not.  The  first  one  lived  on 
Milwaukee  avenue,  and  Frank  and  I  had  spent  one  even- 
ing there ;  the  other  I  had  not  met.  I  liked  this  one  very 
well.     Frank  had  three  children,  the  youngest  of  whom  • 


196 

he  told  me,  much  to  my  surprise,  was  thirteen  years  old, 
while  the  others  were  old  enough  to  care  for  themselves. 
He  was  older  than  I  had  supposed,  being,  at  this  time,  more 
than  forty  years  of  age,  though  he  did  not  really  appear  to 
be  more  than  thirty-five  at  the  most. 

Soon  after  our  betrothal,  Frank  invited  me  to  go  with 
him  to  spend  the  evening  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Spalding, 
the  other  sister  of  whom  I  have  before  spoken,  saying: 

"  You  know  she  will  soon  be  your  sister,  and  it  is  not 
becoming  to  have  a  sister  whom  you  do  not  know." 

I  accordingly  went  with  him  to  visit  her.  We  passed 
rather  a  pleasant  evening,  though  it  must  be  confessed  I 
did  not  like  her  as  well  as  I  did  her  sister.  There  was 
something  in  her  manners,  impossible  to  be  described,  but 
which  was  very  displeasing  to  me.  It  was  not  pride,  or 
ill-nature,  nor  could  I  say  what  it  was ;  but  there  was  that 
sort  of  instinctive  dislike  which  we  sometimes  feel  to- 
ward a  person,  and  for  which  we  are  unable  to  account, 
even  to  ourselves. 

"  I  do  not  like  you,  Dr.  Fell ; 
The  reason  why,  I  can  not  tell ; 
But  this  I  know  full  well, 
I  do  not  like  you,  Dr.  Fell." 

And  yet  she  was  a  good,  kind-hearted  woman,  and 
when  I  afterward  had  occasion  to  test  her  goodness  of 
heart  and  disposition,  I  found  that  I  could  rely  upon  her 
with  the  confident  assurance  that  she  would  not  disap- 
point me. 

When  the  evening  was  ended,  and  we  started  away, 
Mrs.  Spalding  urged  me  very  earnestly  to  come  and  see 
her  again,  saying,  in  a  voice  and  manner  which  convinced 
me  that  she  knew  of  the  relationship  between  Frank  and 
myself,  "that  we  must  get  to  be  very  good  friends  indeed." 
This  was  the  only  allusion  that  was,  at  any  time  durirg 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  197 

the  evening,  made  to  our  engagement.  Frank  accom- 
pained  me  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  leading  to  my  own 
home,  and  there  bid  me  good  night,  promising  to  call  and 
see  me  the  next  evening.  The  next  evening  came,  but  he 
did  not.  I  was  sadly  disappointed  at  even  this  trifling 
affair,  and  really  felt  as  if  he  had  slighted  me,  merely  be- 
cause he  for  once  failed  to  keep  his  promise  to  meet  me, 
and,  could  I  have  seen  him  then,  do  n't  know  what  I  might 
have  said  to  him.  He  had  already  become  dearer  to  me 
than  I  thought,  and  I  was  jealous  of  even  any  appearance 
of  neglect. 

The  next  evening  he  came,  and,  ah !  how  swiftly  the 
hours  flew  by  in  his  society.  We  were  both  so  happy  that 
we  took  no  note  of  passing  time,  and  when  he  looked  at 
his  watch  and  declared  that  it  was  almost  twelve  o'clock, 
words  could  hardly  express  our  mutual  surprise.  It  did 
not  really  seem  to  me  that  it  could  be  more  than  nine, 
and  it  was  only  when  I  consulted  my  own  watch,  and 
found  that  the  small  hours  were  indeed  approaching,  that 
I  could  be  convinced  that  his  time  was  not  too  fast. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "the  last  car  is  gone,  and  I  shall  have 
to  walk  home.  But  never  mind,  the  time  will  soon  come 
when  we  will  not  part  at  all." 

After  this  he  spent  nearly  all  his  evenings  with  me,  and 
the  scene  just  detailed  was  often  repeated.  How  happy 
we  were.  But  during  all  this  time  I  could  not  help  feel- 
ing a  sort  of  vague  uneasiness,  a  dim,  indefinable  dread 
of  the  future,  and  I  trembled  inwardly  lest  our  happiness 
should  pass  away  forever.  It  may  be  that  it  was  because 
I  had  seen  so  much  of  sorrow,  and  so  little  genuine,  un- 
alloyed happiness  in  my  past  life,  that  I  felt  so  insecure 
in  this.  And  of  a  truth,  my  past  experience  had  been 
such  as  to  render  me  suspicious  and  distrustful  to  a  de- 


198 

gree.  How  often  had  I  seen  myself  raised  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  happiness,  only  to  be  in  the  next  moment,  as  it 
were,  precipitated  from  my  pinnacle  of  joy  to  the  very 
lowest  depths  of  the  abyss  of  misery  and  pain.  And  is  it 
strange  that  I  should  have  trembled  in  view  of  the  possi- 
bility of  a  repetition  of  my  past  sad  experience  ?  And 
hence  it  was  that  my  jealous  love  was  ever  suggesting 
doubts  as  to  the  future.  Would  he  always  love  me  as 
now  ?  Would  he  ever  enjoy,  as  now,  the  evenings  spent 
in  my  society;  or  would  that  love  of  his,  which  now  seemed 
so -ardent,  in  time  wither  and  fade  away,  and  I  be  left 
alone,  a  miserable  and  neglected  wife  ?  And  then  my 
own  deep  love,  and  my  confidence  in  him,  would  whisper 
that  it  could  not  be ;  that  his  affection  was  true,  even  as 
my  own ;  that  our  devotion  to  each  other  could  never  know 
any  change,  and  that,  hand  in  hand,  we  would  travel  adown 
the  vale  of  life  together,  and  our  destinies  be  separated 
only  by  the  dark  rolling  stream  of  death.  Could  I  have 
imagined  what  less  than  a  twelvemonth  would  bring 
forth,  how  gladly  would  I  have  laid  down  and  died  ere 
linking  my  fate  with  that  of  him  whom  I  now  so  fondly 
loved. 

As  our  wedding-day  approached  I  began  to  make  pre- 
parations for  its  celebration.  I  advertised  my  rooms  "  to 
let,"  and  my  furniture  "  for  sale,"  and  in  a  short  time  had 
an  application  from  a  newly-married  couple,  and  sold  out 
to  them.  They  desired  to  take  immediate  possession,  and 
I  agreed  to  allow  them  to  do  so,  they  boarding  me  until  the 
wedding-day.  When  married,  Frank  and  I  were  going  to 
Waukegan,  to  visit  his  mother  and  brothers  there,  after 
which  we  were  to  return  to  Chicago  and  go  to  keeping 
house,  living,  for  the  present  at  least,  in  the  same  house 
he  now  occupied.     This  was  our  programme,  but,  like  all 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  199 

other  programmes  of  merely  human  beings,  it  was  liable 
to  fail  in  some  particulars.  And  in  this  particular  case  it 
was  not  to  be  fulfilled,  at  least  until  after  intense  sorrow 
and  trouble  to  one  of  the  parties  concerned. 

But  I  will  close  this  chapter  here,  and  in  my  next,  give 
some  account  of  the  events  preceding  my  marriage,  and 
immediately  following  it — events  which  gave  me  a  new 
insight  into  the  character  of  Frank  C.  Nelles,  and  led  me, 
even  at  that  early  day,  to  almost  regret  the  step  which 
had  bound  me  to  him,  and  placed  me  in  his  power. 


200  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

Time  had  rolled  away  until  but  few  days  intervened 
between  us  and  the  day  which  was  to  witness  our  mar- 
riage, when  suddenly  Mr.  Nelles  discontinued  his  visits. 
Up  to  this  time  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  calling  on  me 
almost  every  day,  and  I  could  imagine  no  reason  for  the 
sudden  change.  At  first  I  thought  nothing  of  it,  but  when 
three  or  four  days  passed  away  and  he  came  not,  I  began 
to  feel  uneasy,  for  it  was  something  which  had  never  oc- 
curred since  our  engagement.  Accordingly  I  sent  him  a 
note  asking  him  to  call  and  see  me  at  a  particular  time 
therein  mentioned. 

He  came,  but  oh !  how  changed  he  was.  He  was  no 
longer  the  same  man.  No  kiss  of  welcome  passed  be- 
tween us  as  had  been  our  wont,  but  briefly  and  coldly  he 
saluted  me,  and,  without  noticing  the  chair  I  offered  him, 
he  remained  standing,  and  apparently  waited  for  me  to  ad- 
dress him,  which  I  did  in  a  quivering  voice,  for  my  heart 
was  full. 

'^  Frank,"  said  I,  "  for  heaven's  sake,  what  is  the  mat- 
ter?" 

"  Do  you  know  Charles  Alvord  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  I;  "what  of  him  ?"  for  I  knew  him  to  be 
a  man  who  was  capable  of  anything,  and  my  heart  misgave 
me  as  soon  as  he  pronounced  that  name. 

Nelles  then  went  on  to  tell  me  that  Alvord  had  been  to 
him  and  told  him  he  understood  he  was  going  to  marry 
me,  and  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  warn  him  against  me ;  that 
I  was  a  bad,  wicked  woman,  and  was  only  trying  to  marry 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK  AGENT.  201 

him  for  some  base  design ;  that  if  he  married  me  he  would 
be  sorry  for  it,  and  that  he  had  better  break  off  with  me 
while  there  was  yet  time. 

As  I  heard  these  cruel  words,  I  sunk  upon  the  sofa  ut- 
terly overcome  by  the  violence  of  my  emotions.  What 
had  I  ever  done  to  this  man,  that  he  should  attempt 
to  destroy  me  in  this  manner  ?  I  had  never  harmed  him 
or  said  aught  against  him  in  any  way,  and  why  he  should 
seek  to  injure  me  was  past  my  comprehension.  It  could 
be  for  no  other  reason  than  because  of  his  purely  base  and 
devilish  spirit — that  spirit  which  would  lead  him  to  tram- 
ple a  poor,  unfortunate  woman  under  his  feet,  and  degrade 
her  all  in  his  power,  instead  of  trying  to  lift  her  to  her 
feet  and  aid  her  in  an  attempted  reformation.  Yes,  such 
was  his  character,  and  he  had  only  followed  out  his  own 
base  instincts  when  he  tried  to  injure  me  with  Frank.  I 
did  not  pretend  to  be  perfect  by  any  means,  nay,  I  had,  as 
the  reader  is  already  aware,  committed  some  most  griev- 
ous errors,  but  I  was  not  a  wicked  woman  at  heart,  and 
my  errors  and  follies  had  been  repented  of  a  thousand 
times.  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  have  told  Frank  all  about  my 
past  life  before  this  time,  but  the  reader  knows  why  I  had 
not,  and  surely  this  fault  was  not  entirely  past  forgiveness. 

These  reflections  passed  through  my  mind  as  I  lay  upon 
the  sofa,  but  I  could  not  answer  him  a  word,  and  it  was 
only  when  he  asked  me,  after  a  long  period  of  silence, 
what  I  had  to  say  to  these  charges,  that  I  found  language 
to  answer  him.  I  then  told  him  the  truth  with  regard  to 
the  past,  with  which  the  reader  is  already  acquainted,  gave 
him  my  reasons  for  not  telling  him  before,  and  wound  up 
by  saying  that  we  had  better  not  marry,  and  that  I  did 
not  wish  to  marry  him  unless  we  could  live  happily  to- 
gether.    As  I  said  this,  he  turned  on  his  heel,  and  saying, 


202  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

"  Good  night,  if  that  is  your  answer,"  he  started  to  leave 
the  room. 

But  I  could  not  let  him  go  thus.  To  part  in  this  way 
would  kill  me,  for  I  loved  him  more  than  my  own  life, 
and  I  could  not  have  felt  worse  had  he  plunged  a  knife  in 
my  bosom.  I  told  him  that,  notwithstanding  the  past,  if 
he  would  trust  me,  he  would  find  me  a  true  wife ;  that  I 
would  endure  suffering,  starvation,  and  even  death  in  the 
mi^st  of  poverty,  before  I  would  prove  false  to  him ;  that 
I  would  not  marry  him  to  make  him  miserable,  but  if  he 
would  only  give  me  his  love,  I  could  and  would  endure 
anything  in  the  world.  To  this  appeal  he  only  responded 
"  Good  night,"  left  the  room,  and  closed  the  door  behind 
him. 

Once  outside  the  door,  however,  he  seemed  to  relent, 
and  I  listened  in  vain  for  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  de- 
scending the  stairs.  It  would,  perhaps,  have  been  better 
for  both  if  he  had  gone,  but  he  did  not.  I  lay  and  listened 
some  time,  and  then  arose,  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 
He  was  standing  on  the  threshhold,  and  as  I  opened  the 
door  he  stepped  inside,  took  my  hand  in  his,  and  led  me 
to  the  sofa,  where,  seating  me,  he  placed  himself  by  my 
side. 

"Forgive  me,"  said  he;  "I  was  wrong  and  hasty  just 
now.  But  forgive  and  forget ;  and  let  us  be  married  as 
though  nothing  unpleasant  had  ever  occurred  between  us." 

"I  forgive  you  freely,"  said  I;  "but  answer  me  one 
thing.  If  we  are  married,  now  that  you  know  all  the 
sad  past,  will  you  ever  throw  it  up  to  me,  or  taunt  me 
with  my  errors  of  by-gone  days  ?  Promise  me  that  you 
will  not  do  this,  let  what  may  arise." 

His  answer  to  this  request  I  can  never  forget.  It  is 
engraved  on  my  heart  in  characters  of  living  fire.   It  was : 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.     '  203 

"Annie,  if  you  were  the  worst  woman  in  the  city, 
and  I  married  you,  I  would  never  cast  up  anything  to 
you.  Nay,  more;  if  I  married  you  under  such  circum- 
stances, I  would  live  with  you,  and  treat  you  kindly,  so 
long  as  you  were  a  true  and  faithful  wife  to  me  after  our 
marriage." 

We  were  married  in  a  few  days  after  this  conversation. 
God  is  my  witness,  that  in  word,  thought  and  deed,  I  was 
a  true  and  faithful  wife  to  him ;  and  how  he  redeemed  the 
solemn  promise  just  recorded,  let  the  future  tell.  May 
God  forgive  him,  as  I  do,  for  the  black  and  soul-killing 
perjury  of  which  he  has  been  guilty  in  this  respect. 

Our  wedding  was  set  for  the  sixth  day  of  February, 
1866.  We  were  to  be  married,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, at  the  Baptist  church,  corner  of  Morgan  and  Mon- 
roe Streets,  by  Rev.  Edgar  J.  Goodspeed,  pastor  of  that 
church..  I  was  just  trying  on  my  wedding-dress,  before 
breakfast,  in  the  morning,  when  there  was  a  rap  at  the 
door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  Mrs.  Singer,  the  lady 
with  whom  I  boarded,  opened  the  door.  There  stood  a 
girl,  who  inquired  for  Mrs.  Mason.  Supposing  it  to  be 
one  whom  my  dress-maker  had  sent  on  an  errand,  I 
stepped  forward,  when  she  handed  me  a  letter,  and  imme- 
diately turned  and  disappeared  down  stairs.  I  called 
after  her,  but  she  went  on  without  paying  any  heed  to  me. 

I  hardly  knew  what  to  make  of  this;  but,  without 
wasting  any  time  in  vain  conjectures,  at  once  opened  the 
letter.  It  was  a  sheet  of  foolscap  paper;  all  four  of  the 
pages  were  written  full,  in  a  strange  hand,  and  I  could 
not  imagine  who  should  be  writing  to  me,  or  why.  But  I 
had  not  read  far,  until  I  understood  what  the  writer  was 
driving  at;  for  it  was  filled  with  such  vile  and  disgusting 
language  as  is  seldom  used  by  a  woman.     I  can  not  give 


204 

any  portion  of  its  contents ;  they  were  unsuitable  for  pub- 
lication :  suffice  it  to  say  it  was  written  by  Angeline  Car- 
ney, Mr.  Nelles'  housekeeper,  and,  if  true,  revealed  a 
state  of  depravity,  on  his  part,  almost  too  shocking  to  be 
believed. 

I  knew  not  what  to  do  or  think.  If  the  charges  con- 
tained in  this  letter  were  true,  he  was  not  the  man  to 
whom  I  could  entrust  my  honor  and  happiness ;  if  they 
were  not  true,  he  ought  to  have  a  chance  to  explain  them 
away.  True,  I  did  not  believe  them ;  but  still  every  word 
might  possibly  be  true :  and,  if  so,  I  ought  to  know  it 
before  it  was  too  late.  I  had  no  one  to  whom  I  could 
confide  the  matter,  and,  hence,  no  one  to  advise  me  how 
to  act.  But  it  was  near  nine  o'clock  of  our  wedding-day, 
and  something  must  be  done,  and  that  quickly.  I  hastily 
put  on  my  bonnet  and  shawl,  took  a  street  car,  and  w^as 
soon  at  Mr.  Nelles'  place  of  business.  Arrived  there,  I 
was  told  he  had  gone  to  the  house,  and  at  once  sent  a 
man  there  to  tell  him  to  meet  me  on  the  next  corner, 
where  I  would  wait  until  he  came  up ;  for  I  was  resolved 
I  would  not  marry  him  until  that  matter  was  explained  to 
my  satisfaction. 

I  had  not  long  to  wait.  My  messenger  had  barely 
reached  the  house,  when  I  saw  him  and  Nelles  coming 
out  of  the  yard.  Frank  came  up  to  where  I  was  stand- 
ing, and,  in  a  voice  of  some  concern,  asked  what  was  the 
matter.  I  replied  by  placing  the  scurrilous  letter  in  his 
hands,  and  asking  him  to  explain  what  it  all  meant.  He 
read  it  through,  without  a  word;  and,  then,  handing  it 
back  to  me,  said  Angeline  was  angry  because  he  was 
going  to  get  married,  and  thus  throw  her  out  of  a  place ; 
that  she  had  a  violent  temper,  and  would  do  anything  she 
could  to  accomplish  her  ends.     As  for  the  scandalous  let- 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  205 

ter:  he  said,  most  emphatically,  that  there  was  not  a 
word  of  truth  in  it;  that  it  was  only  a  part  of  her  pro- 
gramme to  break  up  the  marriage,  and  urged  me  to  pay 
no  attention  to  it  whatever.  He  further  told  me,  that  she 
would  be  sent  away  that  very  day,  and  that  he  had  em- 
ployed a  German  girl  to  clean  up  the  house  and  take 
charge  of  it  till  our  return  from  our  trip  to  Waukegan ; 
after  which,  he  observed,  it  would  be  in  my  care. 

His  explanation  did  not  fully  satisfy  me,  and  I  said  as 
much  to  him  and  expressed  my  determination  to  go  to  the 
house,  see  her,  and  learn  from  her  own  lips  what  they 
were  to  each  other.  I  told  him  we  could  never  be  mar- 
ried until  this  matter  was  cleared  up  to  my  entire  satisfac- 
tion. 

He  thereupon  called  a  young  man  from  the  house,  in- 
troduced him  to  me  as  his  son  Wallace,  and  referred  me 
to  him  for  the  truth  of  what  he  had  said.  I  showed  him 
the  letter,  and  asked  him  if  he  knew  anything  of  it. 
He  replied,  after  looking  it  over,  that  Angeline  Carney, 
his  father's  housekeeper,  had  written  it  and  had  told  him 
about  it  after  she  had  sent  it,  and  gave  the  same  explan- 
ation of  the  motives  which  had  prompted  it  as  his  father 
had  already  given.  He  also  added  that  Angeline  was  very 
angry,  and  would  be  sorry  for  what  she  had  done  as  soon 
as  she  had  time  to  reflect  a  little.  But  all  this  was  not 
satisfactory  to  me,  and  I  expressed  a  determination  to  go 
to  the  house,  and  see  her  about  it,  and  hear  what  she  had 
to  say,  and  accordingly  started  in  that  direction.  Mr. 
Nelles  went  with  me,  and  Wallace  went  on  before  to  tell 
her  we  were  coming. 

When  we  reached  the  house,  I  went  at  once  into  the 
bed  room.  Miss  Carney  sat  there  crying  as  if  her  heart 
would  break.     I  asked  her  at  once  why  she  had  written 


206  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

me  such  a  letter  as  that,  and  she  replied  that  she  had  done 
it  because  she  was  angry,  and  wanted  to  break  up  the 
match.  She  did  not  say  it  was  not  true,  but  only  left  that 
to  be  inferred  by  saying  she  had  written  it  because  she 
wanted  to  make  trouble,  and  break  up  the  marriage  if 
possible. 

I  decided  in  my  own  mind  that,  dearly  as  I  loved  Nelles, 
I  would  not  dare  to  trust  my  happiness  in  his  keeping, 
and  walked  out  of  the  house  intending  to  go  home  and 
have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him.  A  street  car  was  just 
passing,  I  signalized  it  to  stop,  and  at  once  got  on 
board.  I  was  not  aware  that  Nelles  had  followed  me, 
until  I  turned  around  to  take  my  seat,  when  I  found  he 
was  with  me.  He  begged  me  to  get  off  and  go  with  him 
where  he  could  talk  it  all  over  with  me,  which  he  could 
not  of  course  do  on  the  car.  For  some  time  I  refused, 
and  only  yielded  when  I  became  afraid  that  his  earnest- 
ness would  attract  the  attention  of  the  other  passengers  to 
our  quarrel,  or  whatever  it  might  be  called. 

Accordingly  we  got  off  the  car,  and  went  to  an  oyster 
saloon  where  we  had  a  long  talk.  He  protested  his  entire 
innocence  of  all  the  charges  contained  in  the  letter,  and 
strove  to  induce  me  to  say  that  they  would  make  no  dif- 
ference in  my  mind,  and  that  I  would  marry  him.  But 
this  I  would  not  do,  for  though  I  almost  believed  his  pro- 
testations I  wanted  time  and  opportunity  to  think  the 
matter  over  alone.  I  did  not  want  to  act  hastily,  and 
hence  evaded  giving  him  a  direct  answer.  He  finally 
ceased  his  persuasions,  we  left  the  saloon,  and  walked 
down  the  street  until  a  car  came  along,  when  I  took  that, 
and  was  soon  at  my  home. 

I  had  been  there  but  a  few  minutes  when  a  half-brother 
of  Nelles,  by  the  name  of  Emsley  Sunderlin,  and  his  son. 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  207 

Daniel  Nelles,  came  to  see  me.  They  had  been  informed 
by  Frank  and  Wallace  of  the  rupture,  and  came  to  induce 
me  to  change  my  determination  and  go  on  with  the  mar- 
riage. They  asseverated  his  entire  innocence  of  the 
charges,  and  urged  me  to  pay  no  attention  to  them,  as- 
suring me  I  should  have  no  further  trouble  on  her  account, 
and  begged  me  not  to  allow  that  bad  woman  to  break  up 
the  marriage  by  her  mean  and  spiteful  jealousy.  They 
told  me  that  Frank  was  taking  it  very  hard,  and  had  sent 
them  to  talk  to  me  about  it  in  the  hope  of  persuading  me 
to  accede  to  his  wishes. 

I  replied  that  I  was  fearful  we  should  never  be  happy 
in  each  other's  society,  and  that  I  believed  it  would  be  as 
well  for  both  of  us  if  we  never  married.  But  even  while 
I  uttered  these  words  my  heart  was  wrung  with  anguish, 
for  I  really  loved  Frank,  and  the  idea  of  giving  him  up 
was  very  painful  to  me.  But  they  still  pleaded  with  me, 
urged  and  entreated  me  to  reconsider  my  determination, 
and  at  length  I  yielded,  almost  against  my  better  judg- 
ment, and  told  them  they  might  inform  Frank  that  I  would 
be  ready  at  the  time  appointed.  I  asked  no  further 
pledges  or  protestations  from  him,  for  I  thought  that  if  the 
promises  he  had  already  made,  together  with  those  he 
would  make  before  the  man  of  God,  would  not  restrain 
him,  no  others  would,  and  it  were  worse  than  useless  to  de- 
mand them  at  his  hands.  I  did  not  feel  entirely  justified 
in  the  step  I  was  about  to  take,  but  I  loved  him,  and 
thought  he  loved  me,  and  I  trusted  to  that  love  to  avoid 
any  difficulties  in  the  future.  I  have  since  learned  that, 
however  powerful  a  motive  love  may  be,  it  will  not  avail 
to  procure  peace  and  happiness  unless  sanctioned  and  con- 
trolled by  high  moral  principle. 

Two  o'clock  was  near  at  hand,  and  still  I  was  not  fully 


208 

decided  in  my  own  mind  as  to  my  duty  in  the  premises. 
I  fancied  that  duty  said,  "remain  single,"  while  inclina- 
tion quite  as  strongly  demanded  that  I  should  go  on  with 
the  wedding.  And  thus  I  remained  in  the  most  painful 
suspense,  and  even  delaying  my  dressing  on  this  account 
until  the  clock  was  close  upon  the  stroke  of  two,  when  I 
suddenly  made  up  my  mind  to  go  through  with  it  at  all 
hazards,  hastened  to  complete  my  remaining  preparations, 
and,  just  as  the  clock  struck  two,  gave  Frank  Nelles  my 
hand  to  be  led  to  the  carriage  in  which  we  were  going  to 
the  church.  He  handed  me  in,  sprang  in  after  me,  and 
we  rolled  away  to  the  church,  where,  in  the  presence  of  a 
very  few  friends,  whom  we  had  invited  to  witness  the  cer- 
emony, the  man  of  God  pronounced  the  words  which 
bound  us  together  forever.  Forever,  did  I  say  ?  This  was 
a  mistake.  It  was  said  to  be  forever,  but  we  shall  soon 
see  how,  in  a  few  short  weeks,  I  was,  by  the  tyranny  and 
brutality  of  the  man,  who,  this  day,  promised  to  love, 
honor,  and  cherish  me  until  death,  driven  from  my  home  to 
become  a  wanderer  among  strangers,  and  seek  a  preca- 
rious existence  by  my  own  exertions. 

After  our  marriage,  we  went  to  Mrs.  Marshall's  for  din- 
ner, had  a  very  pleasant  time,  and  then,  at  four  o'clock, 
took  the  cars  for  Waukegan,  where  we  were  to  remain 
over  night  at  the  house  of  his  mother,  then  visit  two  days 
among  his  other  relations  there,  and  return  to  the  city  the 
next  day.  Emsley  Sunderlin  accompanied  us,  and  just 
before  we  reached  Waukegan,  he  proposed  to  play  a  joke 
upon  his  mother  and  the  guests  whom  we  knew  she  had 
invited  to  greet  us.  Accordingly,  when  we  reached  our 
destination,  he  offered  me  his  arm  to  conduct  me  to  the 
house.  I  accepted  it,  and  when  we  got  in  he  introduced 
me  to  the  assembled  guests  as  his  wife,  Frank  in  the  mean- 


THE   LIFE    OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  209 

time  remaining  in  the  background.  Everybody  was  taken 
by  surprise.  The  old  lady  had  invited  them  to  meet  her 
son  and  his  bride,  and  they  had  understood  that  it  was 
Frank  who  was  coming  with  a  newly-made  wife ;  judge 
then  of  their  astonishment  when  one  so  much  younger 
than  Frank,  but  still  a  son  of  the  old  lady,  claimed  the 
honors  which  they  supposed  were  due  to  Mr.  Nelles.  Nev- 
ertheless we  were  greeted  with  the  same  warmth  which 
they  were  prepared  to  extend  to  Mr.  Nelles  and  his  bride, 
and  many  were  the  congratulations  and  kindly  wishes 
showered  upon  us,  all  of  which  Mr.  Sunderlin  received 
with  as  much  gravity  and  unction  as  though  he  were  really 
entitled  to  them. 

When  supper  was  announced,  Emsley,  who  had  never 
quitted  my  side  for  a  moment,  in  order  to  keep  up  the  de- 
ception, offered  me  his  arm  and  conducted  me  to  the  table. 
We  sat  side  by  side  at  the  head  of  the  well-filled  board, 
and  "  many  a  time  and  oft "  the  health  of  the  bride  and 
groom  was  pledged  by  the  joyous  guests,  Sunderlin  very 
coolly  appropriating  these  honors  to  himself,  while  Frank 
sat  near  the  foot  of  the  table,  coolly  and  quietly  enjoying 
the  joke  which  was  being  perpetrated. 

The  company  were  not  undeceived  until  the  close  of  the 
festivities,  late  at  night,  when  they  were  immeasurably  as- 
tonished at  seeing  Frank  and  myself  retire  to  a  room  to- 
gether. They  at  once  appreciated  the  fact  that  they  had 
been  the  victims  of  a  huge  "  sell,"  and  proceeded  to  inflict 
summary  vengeance  upon  the  offenders.  I  will  not  detail 
all  the  means  resorted  to  to  punish  us  for  the  joke  we  had 
played  upon  them ;  let  the  reader  draw  upon  his  imagina- 
tion, or  his  recollection,  for  the  wildest  pranks  which  usu- 
ally attend  weddings  in  the  rural  districts,  and  then  double 
everything  he  can  imagine,  and  he  will  have  some  idea  of 
14 


210  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

the  events  attending  our  first  night's  stay  in  Waukegan. 
In  vain  Frank's  mother  tried  to  control  them,  and  induce 
them  to  let  us  alone ;  with  protestations  of  vengeance  for 
the  deception  we  had  practiced  upon  them,  they  continued 
to  invade  the  privacy  of  our  chamber  all  night  long,  and 
we  never  closed  our  eyes  for  a  moment  during  the  entire 
night. 

We  were  to  have  returned  to  Chicago  on  Friday,  but, 
the  evening  before,  Mr.  Nelles  received  a  telegram  from 
that  place,  which,  he  informed  me,  was  from  his  son,  Dan- 
iel, and  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  return  at  once  to  the 
city.  I  tried  to  induce  him  to  tell  me  the  nature  of  the 
dispatch,  or  let  me  see  it,  but  he  declined  to  do  either,  say- 
ing it  only  pertained  to  some  business  matters  of  no  special 
importance,  and  that  I  would  know  all  about  it  in  time. 
I  asked  him  when  he  would  go  to  the  city,  and  he  replied 
he  should  go  that  night,  but  I  must  stay  in  Waukegan,  at 
his  mother's,  until  he  sent  for  me,  which  he  said  would  be 
very  soon.  I  could  not  understand  the  reason  for  this 
secresy,  and  did  not  like  it ;  but  felt  sure  some  trouble  was 
brewing.  I  could  form  no  idea  what  it  was,  but  my  fears 
led  me  to  imagine  something  very  horrible ;  and,  after  my 
husband  left,  I  walked  the  floor,  constantly,  until  Daniel 
Nelles  came  in.  His  train  arrived  about  eleven  o'clock, 
and  he,  at  once,  came  to  his  grandmother's,  where  I  was. 

I  was  glad  to  see  him,  for  I  knew  his  father  had  arrived 
in  Chicago  before  he  started  out,  and  I  felt  in  hopes  he 
had  brought  a  message  to  me  to  return  to  Chicago  with 
him  the  next  morning.  But  in  this  I  was  disappointed — 
he  told  me  his  father  wished  me  to  stay  in  Waukegan  a 
few  days  longer,  and  would  send  for  me  soon.  I  tried  to 
induce  him  to  tell  me  something  about  the  difficulty  which 
took  him  away  so  suddenly;   but  he  protested  that  he 


THE    LIFE    OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  211 

could  not  explain  anything;  that  he  had  heen  advised 
to  send  the  dispatch,  but  that  he  really  knew  nothing 
about  the  trouble,  save  that  it  was  something  about  the 
possession  of  the  house. 

Finding  that  I  could  learn  nothing  from  him,  I  gave  it 
up,  and  retired  to  rest,  with  my  mother-in-law.  She  was 
a  dear  old  lady,  one  whom  I  esteemed  from  the  first  mo- 
ment I  ever  saw  her ;  and,  as  I  came  to  know  her  better, 
I  loved  her  as  though  she  had  been  my  own  mother. 
When  she  found  that  my  nervous  excitement  would  not 
allow  me  to  sleep,  she  began  to  talk  to  me ;  and,  as  she 
was  a  sincere  and  pious  Christian  woman,  her  conversa- 
tion, naturally  enough,  flowed  into  that  channel.  She 
asked  me  if  I  was  a  member  of  any  church,  and  gently 
expressed  her  regret  when  she  was  informed  that  I  was 
not.  She  spoke  of  Frank's  being  a  member  of  the  church ; 
but  said  she  thought  he  had  almost  ceased  to  comply  with 
the  outward  and  visible  forms  of  religion;  expressed 
much  sorrow  thereat,  and  thanked  me,  kindly  and  heart- 
ily, when  I  told  her  that,  though  not  a  church-member,  1 
liked  to  see  such  things,  and  would  use  all  my  influence 
to  induce  Frank  to  attend  church  and  resume  family  wor- 
ship. In  such  soothing  conversation  as  this,  the  night 
passed  away,  until,  my  nervousness  being  somewhat 
relieved,  I  at  last  sunk  into  slumber. 

When  I  awoke  in  the  morning,  however,  I  was  as  anx- 
ious as  ever ;  and,  as  the  day  wore  on,  I  could  think  of 
nothing  but  the  strange  air  of  mystery  which  attended 
Frank's  departure.  I  was  continually  wondering  what 
could  be  the  matter  which  so  imperatively  called  him  home ; 
but  which  I,  his  lawful  wife,  must  not  know,  and  I  finally 
determined  to  be  put  off  no  longer.*  Accordingly,  I  sent 
a  letter  down,  by  Daniel,  to  his  father,  telling  him  I  was 


212  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

coming  home  the  next  day;  that  I  could  not  stay  away 
any  longer,  and  asking  him  to  meet  me  at  the  depot  in 
Chicago.  This  letter  brought  no  answer,  but  still  I 
thought,  of  course,  he  would  meet  me  as  requested. 

The  next  day  I  went  down  to  Chicago,  and  as  we  rolled 
slowly  into  the  depot,  I  looked  around  on  every  side  for 
my  husband,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  How  bitter 
was  my  disappointment.  Although  I  knew  he  did  not  ap- 
prove of  my  coming,  still  no  thought  of  his  refusing  to 
meet  me  had  ever  crossed  my  mind,  and  now,  to  be  treated 
with  such  apparent  neglect,  seemed  the  very  hight  of 
cruelty  to  me,  and  the  tears  gushed  into  my  eyes  at  the 
thought.  I  hesitated  for  some  time  what  I  should  do.  I 
had  never  been  installed  mistress  of  his  house,  and  did 
not  feel  like  going  there.  Beside,  who  could  tell  what 
difficulty  might  be  caused  if  I  went  there,  not  only  unex- 
pected and  unannounced,  but  in  direct  opposition  to  what 
I  knew  and  understood  to  be  his  wish ;  and  finally  I  de- 
cided that  I  would  go  to  my  old  home,  and  stay  there  till 
he  came  for  me.  Accordingly  I  walked  over  there,  it 
being  but  a  short  distance  from  the  depot. 

I  had  been  there  but  a  short  time  when  he  came  for 
me,  and  asked  me  to  go  home  with  him.  And  then,  for 
the  first  time,  I  knew  what  had  summoned  him  home  so 
unexpectedly,  and  also  why  he  had  not  met  me  at  the 
depot,  according  to  my  request  of  the  day  before. 

It  seems  that  Mr.  Nelles'  housekeeper,  who  had  been 
sent  away  from  her  position  on  the  day  of  our  marriage, 
being  highly  incensed  at  the  loss  of  her  place,  had  gone 
to  Mr.  Alvord,  and,  under  his  advice,  she  had  returned  to 
the  house,  expelled  the  German  girl  who  was  left  in 
charge,  and,  taking  possession  of  the  place  again,  had 
avowed  her  determination  to  remain  there,  at  least  until 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  213 

thi  arrival  of  Mr.  Nelles.  The  faithful  girl,  whose  rights 
were  thus  invaded,  had  gone  to  Daniel  for  redress,  and 
he  at  once  telegraphed  his  father  to  come  down  and  settle 
the  dispute.  Mr.  Nelles  came  down  at  once,  and  found 
her  in  absolute  possession  of  the  house.  She  avowed 
her  determination  to  maintain  her  possession  against 
all  comers  whomsoever.  He  first  tried  to  make  a  treaty 
of  peace  with  her,  hut  without  effect — all  his  overtures  . 
were  scornfully  rejected.  He  then  resorted  to  expostula- 
tion, then  to  entreaty,  and  finally  to  threats,  telling  her 
he  would  give  her  in  charge  of  the  police  if  she  persisted 
in  her  extraordinary  and  outrageous  conduct ;  but  to  this 
she  was  equally  indifferent.  In  this  way  had  passed  the 
entire  day,  and  finally  he  had  gone,  that  very  morning 
(the  day  of  my  arrival),  to  carry  his  threat  into  execution. 
In  this  way  he  had  succeeded  in  getting  possession  of  the 
house;  but  in  what  a  condition!  While  he  was  gone 
for  a  policeman,  she  seemed  to  have  tried  to  dismantle 
the  fortress  which  she  could  no  longer  hold;  or,  in  other 
words,  she  appeared  to  have  used  all  the  means  in  her 
power  to  render  the  house  as  nearly  uninhabitable  as 
possible.  The  carpets  were  torn  up,  the  window-curtains 
taken  down,  and  over  the  floor  were  scattered  fragments 
of  broken  dishes  and  furniture.  These  matters  had  de- 
layed him  until  it  was  too  late  to  meet  me  at  the  train, 
according  to  my  request. 

By  the  time  he  had  finished  this  recital  we  had  arrived 
at  the  house,  and  such  a  sight  as  it  was,  I  never  saw  be- 
fore, and  hope  never  to  see  again.  Scattered  over  the  floor 
were  fragments  of  crockery,  glassware,  mirrors,  and  every 
thing  that  would  break ;  while  strips  of  carpet,  fragments 
of  broken  furniture,  shreds  of  curtains,  and  everything  that 
one  could  think  of,  lay  in  profusion  all  around.     I  was 


214  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

heart-sick,  but  it  was  no  time  to  mourn,  and,  with  the  as- 
sistance of  our  faithful  German  girl,  we  set  vigorously  to 
work  to  repair  damages  as  far  as  possible,  and  in  course 
of  time  rendered  the  place  quite  habitable. 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  215 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Behold  me,  once  more,  dear  reader,  installed  as  mis- 
tress of  a  home  which  I  could  call  my  own,  and  the  wife 
of  a  man  whom  I  loved  and  was  willing  to  do  anything 
in  my  power  to  rendqr  happy.  I  would  endure  any  cross, 
privation,  or  trial  without  a  murmur  for  his  sake,  and 
would  only  ask,  in  return,  the  inestimable  boon  of  his 
love  and  confidence.  The  light  of  his  countenance,  and 
the  kindly  affection  which  I  knew  my  conduct  merited, 
was  all  that  was  needed  to  render  me  perfectly  happy; 
but,  alas !  there  were  causes  at  work  which  were  destined 
to  undermine  the  castle  of  peace  which  my  hopes  had 
erected,  reduce  it  to  a  wreck,  and  my  life  to  a  barren 
waste  of  wretchedness  and  black  despair.  Let  me,  in 
the  present  chapter,  unfold  some  of  these  causes  to  the 
reader. 

During  my  residence  in  Chicago  I  had  been  so  unfor- 
tunate as  to  incur  the  hatred  of  certain  vicious  and 
unprincipled  persons,  whose  names  it  is  now  unnecessary 
to  mention.  Two  in  particular — a  man  and  a  woman — 
had,  without  any  cause,  come  to  regard  me  with  the  most 
untiring  and  fiend-like  malice,  and  were  ready  to  resort 
to  any  means,  however  base  or  unprincipled,  to  accom- 
plish my  utter  ruin.  They  began  their  efforts  to  separate 
myself  and  my  husband  before  we  had  been  married  a 
week,  and  prosecuted  their  object  with  a  zeal  worthy  of 
a  better  cause,  and  with  what  degree  of  success,  will,  in 
due  time,  be  apparent  to  the  reader. 

Their  first  step  was  to  write  letters  to  all  our  friends, 


216  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

in  which  they  denounced  me  as  a  prostitute,  and  applied 
to  me  every  base  epithet  which  their  unprincipled  and 
debased  natures  could  suggest.  Not  content  with  this, 
they  attempted  to  give  greater  publicity  to  their  vile  slan- 
ders, by  causing  them  to  be  published  in  the  Chicago  Pic- 
ayune, a  vile  and  obscene  little  sheet,  which,  in  spite  of 
the  efforts  of  the  police  for  its  suppression,  was  published 
in  some  obscure,  out-of-the-way  garret,  whence  it  dissemin- 
ated its  poisonous  filth  upon  the  ai];  of  Chicago.  Could 
my  life  be  other  than  miserable  under  this  state  of 
affairs  ?  To  know  that  my  name  was  bandied  about  the 
saloons  and  brothels  of  Chicago,  and  was  the  common 
topic  of  conversation  with  the  brutish  and  degraded 
beings  who  congregate  in  such  places,  seemed  to  me 
more  than  I  could  bear. 

And  to  make  matters  worse,  I  saw  day  by  day  that  my 
husband  was  being  affected  in  his  love  toward  me  by  these 
scurrilous  and  constant  attacks.  He  grew  distant,  re- 
served, and  cold,  his  former  demonstrations  of  affection 
ceased  almost  entirely,  and  he  was  constantly  telling  me 
something  that  he  had  heard  said  of  me,  and  when  I  pro- 
posed to  go  and  see  his  informants,  and  trace  to  their 
foundations  the  vile  reports  which  they  were  constantly  cir- 
culating, he  would  not  consent  that  I  should  do  so.  Then  I 
wished  to  have  them  arrested,  and  thus  compel  them  to  de- 
sist from  their  infamous  attacks  by  the  terrors  of  the  law, 
but  to  this  he  would  not  consent,  and  so  matters  went 
from  bad  to  worse  until  my  life  was  wretched  indeed,  and 
in  my  inmost  soul  I  regretted  that  I  had  ever  married 
again. 

As  I  now  look  back  to  those  days  of  misery,  and  scan 
my  conduct  with  the  most  scrutinizing  care,  I  am  unable 
to  recall  a  single  instance  in  which  I  failed  in  my  duty  to- 


THE   LIFE   OF   A  BOOK  AGENT.  2l7 

ward  my  husband,  or,  in  word,  thought,  or  deed,  violated 
the  promise  made  at  the  altar  before  God  and  man,  to 
"love,  honor,  and  obey."  I  did  not,  during  all  this  time, 
give  him  an  unkind  word,  or  even  a  look ;  it  mattered  not 
though  my  very  heart-strings  were  quivering  with  pain,  I 
always  met  him  with  a  kiss  and  smile  when  he  returned 
from  his  labor,  and  at  parting  the  same  seal  of  affection 
was  always  exchanged  between  us.  Again,  I  felt  that,  as 
my  husband  was  by  no  means  wealthy,  it  was  my  duty  to 
do  all  I  could  to  help  him  along  in  the  world,  and  hence, 
when  he  proposed  that  we  should  take  some  of  the  hands 
employed  in  the  railroad  shops  to  board,  I  at  once  assented 
to  it,  although  really  not  able  to  do  the  work  for  our  own 
family,  to  say  nothing  of  adding  the  cookery  of  four  or 
five  men  to  my  already  heavy  burdens.  And  thus, day  by 
day  I  toiled  on,  though  often  almost  fainting  with  weari- 
ness from  over-exertion,  vainly  hoping  against  hope,  that 
by  patience,  kindness,  and  the  most  unselfish  devotion,  I 
would  be  able  to  reclaim  the  love  and  affection  which  I 
saw  gradually  slipping  away  from  me,  as  I  feared,  forever. 
Other  means,  also,  I  resorted  to  to  accomplish  the  one 
great  object  of  my  life.  The  reader  will  remember  that 
my  husband  was  a  member  of  the  church,  and  that  I  had 
promised  his  mother  that  I  would  try  to  recall  him  to  a 
discharge  of  his  duties  as  a  follower  of  the  meek  and 
lowly  Jesus.  Accordingly,  the  first  night  that  we  passed 
in  our  new  home,  I  brought  the  Bible,  and,  laying  it  on  his 
knee,  asked  him  to  read  a  chapter,  and  have  prayers  be- 
fore we  retired.  He  looked  at  me  in  some  surprise,  and 
inquired  if  I  was  a  member  of  the  church,  adding  that  he 
had  understood  that  I  was  not.  To  this  I  replied  that  I 
was  not,  but  that  I  desired  to  become  a  Christian,  and  by 
the  blessing  of  God,  and  his  assistance,  hoped,  ere  long, 


218 

to  realize  the  accomplishment  of  my  desire.  He  made  no 
further  remark,  but  opening  the  Word  of  God,  read  a 
chapter,  and  then  we  knelt  together  and  offered  up  our  pe- 
titions to  the  throne  of  Divine  grace.  And  each  evening, 
before  our  retirement  for  the  night,  this  scene  was  repeated 
for  some  time,  and  each  evening  I  induced  him  to  go  on 
in  the  path  of  duty,  hoping,  by  the  power  of  God's  grace, 
to  attract  his  heart  more  closely  to  mine.  At  times,  I 
would,  at  his  request,  read  the  Word  of  God  while  he  lis- 
tened, after  which  we  would  unite  in  prayer. 

I  also  endeavored  to  induce  him  to  attend  church  with 
me,  believing  that  by  so  doing  I  could  win  him  more 
closely  to  my  side  and  away  from  the  associations  which 
were  poisoning  his  mind  against  me,  and,  for  a  time,  I  was 
successful  in  this.  For  several  Sabbaths  he  accompanied 
me  to  church,  and  on  such  occasions  he  invariably  treated 
me  with  more  kindness  and  consideration  after  our  return 
than  he  did  before  going.  But  the  effect  was  only  tempo- 
rary. And  there  was  a  time  coming  in  which  I  was  to  be 
deprived  of  even  this  partial  influence  over  him,  and  when 
my  efforts  in  this  direction  were  to  become  of  no  avail. 

While  I  was  thus  trying  to  discharge  every  duty  toward 
my  husband,  my  bitterest  enemies  were  as  assiduously 
working  to  destroy  me  forever.  There  is  something  in- 
comprehensible in  the  determined,  relentless  hostility  of 
these  miserable  beings  to  one  who  had  never  done  them 
any  wrong  whatever.  It  is  easy  to  conceive  why  one, 
who  deems  himself  injured  by  another,  should,  at  the  mo- 
ment, and  in  the  heat  of  passion,  strive  to  avenge  his  real 
or  supposed  injuries,  but  how  one  can  thus,  through  a  long 
period  of  time,  continue  a  course  of  unfounded  and  un- 
merited persecution,  is  utterly  unaccountable  to  me.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  theirs  was  not  the  work  of  an 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  219 

hour  or  a  day;  for  weeks,  and  even  months,  they  labored 
unremittingly  in  the  pursuit  of  their  unholy  scheme,  un- 
til their  diabolical  perseverance  was  at  last  crowned  with 
the  most  complete  success. 

Such  effect  had  the  persistent  attacks  of  my  enemies 
upon  my  husband,  that,  in  time,  he  came  to  apparently 
avoid  my  society  as  much  as  possible.  He  no  longer  spent 
his  evenings  at  home  with  me — no  longer  we  knelt  in 
in  prayer  before  the  throne  of  grace — no  longer  we  wended 
our  way  together  to  the  house  of  God  to  listen  to  the 
teachings  of  his  Word  ;  we  no  longer  visited  in  company 
any  place  of  amusement,  or  went  out  together  at  all.  Soli- 
tary and  alone,  with  the  light  of  my  husband's  love  with- 
drawn from  me,  with  my  path  hedged  about  with  bitterest 
thorns,  I  groped  my  way  along  in  darkness,  only  wonder- 
ing what  the  end  would  be,  and  how  soon  it  would  come. 

But  it  was  not  upon  my  husband  alone  that  these  at- 
tacks had  their  effect  to  my  injury,  though  the  loss  of  his 
love  was  the  severest  blow  which  could  befall  me.  The 
friends  and  acquaintances  I  had  made,  one  after  an- 
other, turned  aside  their  heads  and  refused  to  recognize 
me,  or  to  speak  to  me  when  we  met ;  no  one  visited  me,  or 
returned  my  calls,  and,  in  a  short  time,  I  was  as  com- 
pletely ostracised  from  society  as  if  banished  to  a  desolate 
island  in  the  midst  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

God  pity  and  help  the  unfortunate  wretch  upon  whom, 
whether  guilty  or  innocent,  society  once  sets  the  seal  of  its 
condemnation,  for  there  is  no  help  for  him  or  her  short  of 
the  wisdom  and  power  of  Omniscience  itself.  There  is 
no  more  unjust,  arbitrary  or  tyrannical  ruler  upon  the  face 
of  the  earth  than  this  same  society.  It  has  no  toleration 
for  errors,  and  admits  no  repentance  in  its  wretched  vic- 
tims.     Let  any  one,  and  especially  a  woman,  commit  a 


220  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

single  error,  and  attempt  afterward  to  repent  of  that  error, 
and  retrieve  their  standing  and  position — will  society  aid 
them  in  the  slightest  degree  ?  Will  the  friendly  hand  be 
stretched  forth  to  aid  them,  and  lead  them  into  brighter 
paths  of  peace  and  happiness ;  or  will  the  kindly  glance 
of  sympathy,  and  the  genial  smile  of  encouragement, 
cheer  them  on  in  the  reformation  they  have  attempted  ? 
Will  society  whisper  to  the  penitent,  sin-sick  soul,  "  Come, 
I  will  lead,  and  assist  you,  by  pathways  strewn  with  thorn* 
less  flowers,  into  a  purer,  brighter  and  holier  atmosphere, 
where  strength  and  vigor  shall  be  restored  to  you ;  where 
you  shall  breathe  airs  which  are  never  deadly,  and  gather 
fruit  which  holds  no  lurking  poison ;  where  innocence 
and  joy  abound  forever  more,  and  where  the  sins  of  the 
past  shall  be  remembered  no  more  forever  ?"  No ;  it  rises 
with  a  whip  of  scorpions,  drives  the  poor  victim  from  the 
door,  and,  with  contumely,  scorn  and  reproach,  pursues 
him  to  the  very  brink  of  the  grave ;  and,  not  content  even 
with  having  hunted  the  poor  wretch  to  the  tomb,  it  pur- 
sues him  beyond,  and  loads  his  memory  with  execration 
and  reproach. 

And  thus  it  is  that  society  renders  almost  impossible 
the  reform  of  one  who  has  once  gone  astray.  Our  Savior 
was  not  ashamed,  when  on  earth,  to  take  by  the  hand  the 
penitent  sinner,  and,  with  kindly  words  and  approving 
smiles,  lift  him  up  once  more  to  the  position  he  occupied 
before  his  fall ;  but  society,  composed  of  men  and  women 
who  profess  to  be  His  disciples  and  followers,  gathers  its 
robes  around  it  with  a  sort  of  Pharisaic  pride,  and  saying, 
"I  am  more  holy  than  thou,"  shuts  the  door  in  his  face, 
and  drives  him  back  to  the  darkness  from  whence  he  would 
fain  emerge.  Out  upon  such  foul  hypocrisy  and  hollow 
pretense  as  this.     Is  it  any  wonder  that  there  are  so  many 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT  221 

outcasts  in  the  world  when  their  reform  is  thus  made  im- 
possible ?  And  will  not  that  thing  called  society  have  a 
fearful  account  of  wrong  and  outrage  to  settle  in  the  day 
of  the  final  adjustment  of  all  things  ?  How  many  souls 
that  might  otherwise  have  been  saved,  have  been  driven 
to  eternal  perdition  by  the  course  to  which  I  have  alluded  ? 
Who  can  contemplate  the  fearful  record  without  shudder- 
ing ?     But  to  return  to  the  story  of  my  trials. 

During  all  this  time  I  had  no  suspicion  that  my  hus- 
band was  not  true  to  me.  I  knew  he  had  many  sins  to 
answer  for,  but  this  one  I  never  laid  to  his  charge,  and  I 
could  endure  almost  anything  so  long  as  I  believed  him 
true  to  me,  as  I  was  to  him.  But  I  was  soon  to  be  un- 
deceived, and  to  find  myself  that  most  miserable  of  all 
beings,  a  neglected  and  forsaken  wife. 

I  was  one  day  mending  a  coat  which  he  usually  wore  about 
his  work,  and  which  he  had  this  day  left  home  for  this 
purpose.  As  I  turned  it  over,  a  letter  fell  from  one  of  the 
pockets  to  the  floor.  I  picked  it  up,  and  something  in 
the  superscription  attracted  my  attention  at  once,  and  I 
immediately  opened  it,  and  there  found  my  worst  suspi- 
cions more  than  confirmed.  The  letter  was  from  a  woman 
whom  I  already  knew  for  one  of  my  worst  enemies.  She 
spoke  very  disrespectfully  of  me — called  me  that  "thing  " 
he  had  married — assured  him  of  her  undying  love — told  him 
she  could  not  give  him  up,  and  appointed  a  meeting  with 
him,  that  very  night,  in  the  ladies'  sitting-room  at  the  rail- 
road office. 

How  my  blood  boiled  within  me  as  I  read  these  damning 
proofs  of  his  treachery  and  deceit.  What  should  I  do  ? 
As  I  sat  thus,  with  the  evidence  of  his  falsehood  in  my  hands, 
I  was  for  a  time  almost  incapable  of  thinking  rationally 
upon  any  subject.     My  first  idea  was  to  retain  the  letter 


222  ANNIE   NELLESJ    OR, 

until  he  came  home,  then  show  it  to  him  and  charge  him 
with  his  guilt;  but  upon  reflection,  my  charity  for  him  sug- 
gested that  perhaps  this  letter  was  written  only  for  the 
purpose  of  being  seen  by  me,  as  a  part  of  her  system  of 
persecution,  and  that  he  might,  after  all,  be  innocent. 
But,  then,  why  should  it  be  in  his  pocket  ?  Why  should  he 
have  preserved  it  so  carefully  ?  » Nevertheless  I  decided  to 
wait  until  I  had  more  complete  proof  of  his  guilt,  and  ac- 
cordingly returned  the  letter  to  his  pocket,  and  when  he 
came  home  made  no  allusion  to  the  matter. 

But  when  he  went  out  that  night,  I  hastily  threw  on  a 
bonnet  and  shawl  and  followed  him  at  a  distance  sufficient 
to  avoid  his  observation.  He  went  directly  to  the  place 
of  meeting.  The  woman  was  in  waiting  for  him,  and  they 
went  away  together,  I  following  them  at  a  safe  distance, 
until  they  finally  disappeared  within  the  door  of  a  low  sa- 
loon, of  the  very  worst  class  in  the  city. 

From  this  time  forward  I  watched  his  movements  with 
the  closest  and  most  careful  scrutiny.  Many  a  time  have 
I  searched  his  pockets  and  found  letters  from  this  aban- 
doned woman,  in  which  she  would  speak  of  prior  meetings 
with  him,  and  make  appointments  for  the  future ;  and  I 
invariably  observed  that  he  went  out  whenever  the  time 
came  to  fulfill  these  appointments.  During  this  time,  too, 
I  was  making  inquiries  among  those  who  might  be  sup- 
posed to  know  something  about  these  matters,  and  was 
told  that  Frank  C.  Nelles,  my  husband,  was  a  constant 
visitor  of  this  woman.  And  yet,  when  I  had  accumulated 
proofs  to  satisfy  myself  a  thousand  times  of  his  guilt,  and 
charged  him  with  it,  he  had  the  effrontery  and  the  hardi- 
hood to  deny  it  all.  And  when  I  told  him  what  I  had 
seen  with  my  own  eyes,  he  flew  in  a  rage,  repeated  his  as- 
severations of  innocence,  swore  that  I  had  never  seen 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  223 

anything  of  the  kind,  and  actually  had  tne  temerity  to 
call  upon  his  Maker  to  witness  that  the  whole  thing  was 
a  fabrication,  or  the  offspring  of  a  disordered  brain! 

Great  Godl  is  there  no  punishment  for  such  terrible 
falsehood  and  blasphemy?  Here  was  this  man  whom  I 
knew — not  suspected,  but  Tcnew — to  be  guilty  of  the  worst 
crimes  which  a  husband  can  commit  against  a  wife,  and 
yet  he  dared  to  call  high  Heaven  to  witness,  what  ?  That 
what  I  had  seen  with  my  own  eyes  was  not  so ;  that  my 
sense  of  sight  had  deceived  me ;  that  I  was  in  the  wrong, 
instead  of  being  the  victim  of  the  most  outrageous  and 
grievous  indignity  which  could  ever  be  offered  to  a  true, 
faithful  and  confiding  woman.  And  was  there  no  remedy 
for  all  this  ?  What  could  I  do  ?  I  was  helpless,  power- 
less in  his  hands.  The  crimes  which  had  already  been 
perpetrated  against  me,  and  to  which  I  was  now  satisfied 
he  was  a  party,  had  put  it  out  of  my  power  to  do  anything 
to  support  myself  in  Chicago,  and  what  to  do  I  did  not 
know.  I  had  no  means  to  go  elsewhere,  and  I  could  see 
no  way  of  escape  from  the  horrors  of  my  position.  The 
only  thing  I  could  see  was  to  stay  and  suffer  on  until  death 
should  kindly  relieve  me  from  my  sufferings.  To  such  a 
state  of  despair  had  I  been  reduced  by  the  course  of  per- 
secution and  suffering  to  which  I  had  been  subjected. 

But  there  is  a  point  at  which  we  pluck  courage  and  en- 
ergy, even  from  black  despair,  and  that  point  was  fast  ap- 
proaching in  my  case.  I  had  endured,  it  seemed  to  me, 
almost  everything  that  a  woman  could  endure,  and  yet 
there  was  one  more  indignity  and  insult  to  be  offered  to 
me — one  that  was  beyond  even  my  capacity  for  endurance, 
and  which,  at  last,  resulted  in  our  final  separation. 

One  day  my  husband  came  home,  and  appeared  to  be 
in  a  great  rage ;  though  it  was  very  unusual  for  him  to 


224 

be  abusive,  angry,  and  violent  toward  me.  On  this  occa- 
sion he  seemed  much  more  so  than  usual,  and  led  me  to 
think  at  once  something  terrible  was  going  to  happen. 
But  I  was  wholly  unprepared  for  the  terrible  accusation 
he  was  about  to  bring  against  me.  What  it  was  need  not 
be  told ;  suffice  it  to  say,  it  exceeded  in  horror  and  studied 
insult  anything  which  I  had  before  been  called  upon  to 
endure  at  his  hands.  I  was  thunder-struck!  Not  only 
did  I  know  that  the  accusation  was  wholly  false  and  un- 
founded, but  that  he,  too,  must  know  it  to  be  so,  and  yet 
I  was  fully  aware  that  denial  would  avail  me  nothing. 
The  accusation  had  evidently  been  made  for  a  purpose, 
and  to  deny  it  would  serve  nothing  toward  defeating  that 
purpose,  and  yet  how  could  I  rest  under  such  a  terrible 
xjharge,  and  take  no  steps  to  disprove  it  ? 

We  were  then  expecting  his  mother  to  visit  us  the  next 
day.  She  was  in  the  city,  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Spalding, 
and  had  sent  us  word  that  she  would  most  likely  come  to 
our  house  on  the  day  following,  and  stay  several  days 
with  us.  I  decided  to  tell  her  all  my  troubles,  including 
this  last  insult,  and  ask  her  advice ;  for  though  she  was 
his  mother,  I  had  sufficient  confidence  in  her  to  believe 
that  she  would  judge  impartially  between  us.  But  disap- 
pointment awaited  me.  The  morrow  came;  but,  though 
I  waited  and  watched  anxiously  for  her  coming,  she  did 
not  make  her  appearance,  but  remained  at  Mrs.  Spald- 
ing's. 

When  Frank  had  gone  I  threw  myself  upon  a  lounge, 
and  calmly  and  deliberately  reviewed  my  situation.  In  the 
name  of  Heaven,  what  was  I  to  do  ?  My  husband  evi- 
dently wished  to  be  rid  of  me ;  the  falsehoods  which  had 
been  put  in  circulation  about  me  had  blasted  my  reputa- 
tion, and  ruined  all  my  hopes ;  I  could  see  no  way  of  sup- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  225 

porting  myself,  and  could  not  stay  where  I  was — what  was 
then  left  for  me  but  death  ?  Yes ;  death  would  end  the 
struggle  forever,  and  would  be  a  welcome  relief  from 
miseries  which,  it  seemed  to  me,  there  was  no  other  way 
of  avoiding.  And  then  the  tempter  whispered  me,  "  There 
is  that  vial  of  laudanum  in  the  cupboard ;  it  will  afford 
speedy,  sure,  and  painless  relief  from  the  miseries  you 
are  now  enduring. 

There  is  a  certain  class  of  philosophers  who  maintain 
that  the  life  of  a  human  being  belongs  to  himself,  and 
that  whenever,  from  any  cause,  it  becomes  a  burden  to 
him,  he  is  fully  justified — nay,  that  it  is  a  praiseworthy  act, 
and  commendable  in  the  sight  of  God  and  man — in  end- 
ing it  by  his  own  hands.  I  thank  Heaven  that  I  am  not, 
and  never  have  been,  a  subscriber  to  any  such  doctrine. 
Life  is  the  immediate  gift  of  God  to  man,  bestowed  upon 
us  for  wise  and  beneficent  purposes,  and  not  to  be  ended 
until  the  same  will  which  bestowed  the  gift  sees  proper  to 
recall  it,  and  we  have  no  more  right  to  endeavor  to  thwart 
His  will  in  this  particular  than  in  any  other.  It  was  just 
as  apparent  to  my  mind  then,  as  it  is  now,  that  I  was  com- 
mitting a  most  heinous  sin  in  thus  conspiring  against  my 
own  life ;  but,  yet  the  misery  I  endured  was  such  as  to 
render  me  willing  to  take  any  consequences  which  might 
follow  this  last  desperate  effort  to  end  it,  and  I  went 
about  my  preparations  for  suicide  as  coolly  and  deliber- 
ately as  I  ever  did  anything  in  my  life. 

I  first  sat  down  and  wrote  a  letter  to  my  husband,  tell- 
ing him  that  my  life,  by  his  persecution  and  neglect,  had 
been  rendered  a  burden  to  me ;  that  anything  was  prefer- 
able to  the  life  I  was  leading,  and  that  I  had  determined  to 
end  my  existence  and  my  sorrows  together.  I  also  informed 
him  of  my  former  marriage,  and  how  my  husband  had 
15 


226  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

proved  to  be  a  married  man ;  and  begged  his  forgiveness 
for  any  wrong  or  injury  I  might  have  unintentionally  done 
him.  I  told  him  I  had  loved  him  with  all  my  heart,  and 
had  been  a  true  and  faithful  wife  to  him ;  that  he  had  not 
appreciated  me  and  my  devotion  to  him ;  that  I  was 
satisfied  he  hated  me  and  wanted  to  be  rid  of  me,  and 
that  I  would  die  to  free  him.  This  letter  I  sealed  and 
directed  to  him,  and  placed  it  on  the  table,  where  he 
would  be  most  likely  to  find  it;  then  I  took  the  vial  of 
laudanum  in  my  hand,  and  raised  it  to  my  lips.  Then 
the  thought  of  what  I  was  about  to  do  caused  me  to  hesi- 
tate, and,  for  a  moment,  my  heart  failed  me,  but  it  was  only 
for  a  moment.  Gathering  new  courage,  I  once  more 
raised  the  vial  to  my  mouth,  and  drank  off  its  deadly 
contents ;  then  calmly  undressed  myself  and  went  to  bed, 
waiting  for  the  poison  to  accomplish  its  destined  work. 
But  the  end  was  not  yet. 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock  when  I  took  the  poison. 
There  was  an  over-dose  of  it,  and  it  was  not  until  I 
had  been  very  sick,  and  had  thrown  up  a  portion,  that  it 
seemed  likely  to  produce  the  effect  I  desired.  Ah !  the 
horror  of  that  deathly  sickness,  when  death  stared  me  in 
the  face,  and  when  his  coming  was  eagerly  and  earnestly 
desired,  no  one  can  ever  know.  Not  for  a  single  moment 
did  I  repent  the  course  I  had  taken,  and  my  greatest 
anxiety  was  lest  not  enough  of  the  drug  would  be 
retained  in  my  system  to  accomplish  the  object  for  which 
it  had  been  taken.  But,  at  last,  my  sickness  partially 
ceased;  I  felt  a  delicious  languor  stealing  over  my  body 
and  pervading  every  fiber  of  my  frame,  and  I  sunk  into 
dreamless  unconsciousness.  The  last  thing  I  remember, 
liefore  the  period  of  unconsciousness  which  followed,  was 
the  clock  striking  ten.^  Frank  had  not  come,  at  that 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  227 

time ;  I  was  alone,  and  the  world,  with  all  its  sorrows,  its 
cares  and  griefs,  as  well  as  its  joys  and  brightness,  was 
fast  fading  from  my  vision. 

I  have  no  means  of  knowing  what  time  Frank  came 
home  that  night.  When  consciousness  was  restored  to 
me,  which  was  not  until  almost  morning,  he  was  sitting  by 
my  bedside,  with  the  doctor  through  whose  instrument- 
ality my  restoration  had  been  effected,  and  my  scheme, 
for  the  present,  defeated.  I  had,  then,  no  thanks  for  the 
kindness  which  had  prompted  them  to  save  my  miserable 
life,  but  wished  they  had  allowed  me  to  die,  and  inwardly 
vowed  to  renew  the  attempt  at  another  time  and  under 
more  favorable  circumstances.  Since  then,  dear  reader, 
T  have  learned  to  value  life ;  and  I  thank  God,  that  He, 
in  His  mercy,  interposed  that  night  to  save  the  life  which 
was  then  deemed  so  worthless;  and  under  Him,  most 
heartily  do  I  thank  the  doctors  (there  were  two  of  them), 
by  whose  exertions  my  mad  attempt  upon  my  own  life 
was  defeated. 

As  soon  as  I  was  restored  to  consciousness  one  of  the 
physicians  left.  The  other  remained  until  some  time  after 
daylight,  administering  to  me  such  remedies  as  my  situa- 
tion demanded;  when,  having  seen  that  my  condition  was 
no  longer  dangerous,  he,  too,  took  his  leave,  promising  to 
come  back  during  the  course  of  the  day. 

He  came  again  in  the  afternoon,  and  found  me  much 
better,  but  still  very  weak  and  sick  from  the  effects  of 
the  terrible  dose  I  had  taken.  From  this  time  Nelles 
seemed  to  actually  hate  me,  whereas  he  had  before  only 
slighted  and  neglected  me.  Now  his  whole  feeling  seemed 
turned  into  hatred  toward  me,  and  language  would  scarcely 
suffice  to  recount  the  various  means  of  which  he  made  use 
to  display  that  hate.     He  did  not  resort  to  actual  violence, 


228 

from  very  shame  perhaps,  but  treated  me  as  a  hired  ser- 
vant, and  not  as  his  equal,  and  the  woman  he  had  sworn 
to  love,  honor  and  cherish,  in  sickness  as  well  as  in  health, 
until  we  should  be  parted  by  death.  There  was  a  cool, 
calculating,  cruel  coldness  in  his  manner  toward  me,  an 
effort  to  degrade  me  in  my  own  estimation,  and  to  make 
me  feel  that  I  was  his  inferior,  which  was  really  demoniac. 
And  as  soon  as  my  health  was  somewhat  restored,  he 
proceeded  deliberately  to  make  arrangements  for  our  com- 
plete and  final  separation.  He  first  gave  up  all  our  rooms 
on  the  ground  floor,  and  moved  up  stairs,  into  three  small 
rooms,  which  could  only  be  reached  by  a  stairway  passing 
through  a  hall  belonging  to  the  lower  floor  of  the  house. 
I  protested  against  this  arrangement  as  inconvenient  and 
unnecessary,  but  it  mattered  not  to  him.  He  deigned  to 
hold  no  consultation  with  me,  or  to  make  any  explanation 
of  his  designs  or  intentions — it  was  sufficient  that  he 
wished  it.  At  this  time  no  idea  of  immediate  separation 
had  occurred  to  me.  I  felt  sure  it  would  come  ere  long. 
If  he  had  not  demanded  it  I  should,  for  to  live  with  him 
after  what  had  passed  was  simply  impossible,  but  my  health 
was  still  too  feeble  for  me  to  think  of  leaving  him.  But 
"when  the  new  arrangements  were  completed  to  his  satis- 
faction, he  coolly  told  me  he  was  not  going  to  keep  me 
any  longer;  that  he  had  been  discharged  from  the  em- 
ployment of  the  railroad  company,  and  that  I  must  now  look 
out  for  myself,  and  asked  where  I  intended  to  go  to !  I 
made  no  remonstrance  and  offered  no  protest;  first,  be- 
cause the  programme  was  not  at  all  objectionable  to  me, 
and,  secondly,  because  I  was  convinced  of  its  utter  use- 
lessness.  I  merely  asked  him  for  some  money,  which  he  re- 
fused to  give  me,  saying  he  had  none  for  me,  then  put  on 
my  bonnet  and  shawl,  went  to  an  employment  office,  and, 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  229 

on  applying  for  a  situation,  succeeded  in  getting  one  to  do 
general  housework  for  a  family  in  Niles,  Michigan.  I 
was  to  go  that  very  afternoon  to  enter  upon  my  new 
sphere  of  duty. 

When  I  had  completed  my  agreement  and  settled  all 
the  terms,  I  went  back  to  the  house  and  told  my  husband 
of  my  arrangements  for  my  future  support.  I  was  to  do 
kitchen-work,  in  a  large  family,  for  two  dollars  per  week. 
He  made  not  the  slightest  objection  to  my  going  out  to 
work  as  a  kitchen  girl,  nor  do  I  suppose  he  would  have 
objected  to  anything  else  which  took  me  out  of  his  way. 
No,  he  was  entirely  willing  that  his  bride  of  a  few  weeks 
standing  should  go  out  to  the  most  menial  servitude  to 
subsist  herself,  so  he  was  only  left  free  to  follow  the  baser 
passions  of  his  nature,  relieved  from  even  the  trifling  re- 
straint which  my  presence  imposed. 

And  this  was  the  man  who  had  vowed  to  protect  me 
from  the  cold  and  chilling  blasts  of  fate  in  this  world. 
This  was  the  man  who  had  once  professed  to  love  me,  and 
whom  I  had  promised  to  love,  honor  and  obey — the  man 
with  whom  I  had  expected  to  walk,  hand  in  hand,  all 
adown  the  vale  of  life,  our  pathway  all  strewn  with  the 
flowers  of  love,  and  our  lives  crowned  with  peace  and 
happiness.  How  bright  had  been  my  anticipations  of  hap- 
piness before  marriage — how  sad  and  gloomy  the  reality  to 
which  I  had  been  subjected.  Then  I  supposed  that  I  had 
found  a  haven  of  rest  from  all  the  ills  and  cares  of  life — 
I  found  in  reality  that  so  far  from  being  a  haven  of  rest, 
it  was  the  most  troubled  and  tempestuous  sea  of  sorrow 
upon  which  my  frail  bark  had  as  yet  been  set  afloat.  How 
gladly  then  I  hailed  any  arrangement,  however  unpleasant 
or  disagreeable  it  might  be,  so  it  only  involved  my  release 
from  the  horrid  bondage  under  which  I  was  suffering.    But 


2S0  ANNIE   NELLES  ;    OR, 

my  arrangements  were  not  yet  complete.  The  train  which 
it  was  necessary  for  me  to  take  to  reach  my  destination 
would  go  at  five  o'clock,  and  I  had  not  a  cent  of  money  to 
pay  my  fare.  I  spoke  to  Nelles  about  this,  and  asked 
him  for  some  money.  He  replied  that  he  would  bring  me 
some  in  time  for  me  to  leave,  turned  on  his  heel  and  left 
the  house. 

I  felt  confident  he  would  keep  this  promise,  despite  the 
habitual  falsehoods  in  which  he  was  accustomed  to  deal 
with  me,  because  I  felt  sure  his  desire  to  be  rid  of  me 
would  prompt  him  to  truthfulness,  knowing  that  it  was 
impossible  for  me  to  go  without  money.  But  the  day 
gradually  wore  away,  and  he  came  not.  The  time  for  my 
departure  was  drawing  near,  and  still  he  had  not  made 
his  appearance.  My  trunk  was  packed,  and  all  my  ar- 
rangements were  complete  for  starting ;  but  still  no  money 
to  pay  my  fare  had  been  received,  and  now  the  convic- 
tion forced  itself  upon  my  mind  that  he  intended  to  do 
nothing  for  me.  As  this  opinion  gained  strength  in  my 
mind  I  began  to  cast  about  me  to  see  how  I  could  raise 
the  means  necessary  to  accomplish  my  object.  It  would 
cost  me  something  to  go  to  the  scene  of  my  new  engage- 
ment, and  I  did  not  wish  to  land  there,  among  entire 
strangers,  with  no  money;  for,  in  case  anything  was  to 
happen — myself  and  my  employer  should  not  agree,  or 
sickness  should  intervene — what  would  become  of  me  ? 

I  was  always  fond  of  pets,  and  had  a  large  cage  of 
very  fine  canary  birds;  but  they  were  the  only  objects 
upon  which  I  could  now  lavish  my  afiection,  and  I  did  not 
like  theadea  of  parting  with  them.  I  looked  around.  The 
house  was  well  supplied  with  furniture,  bedding,  dishes, 
and  the  like,  toward  procuring  which  my  labor  had  con- 
tributed as  much,  at  least,  as  his;  and  I  greatly  feared 


THE    LIFE    OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  231 

that,  as  soon  as  I  was  out  of  the  way,  they  would  be 
taken  possession  of  by  others  whose  claim  was  not  so 
good  as  mine.  Why  should  I  not  take  some  of  the  most 
valuable  of  the  articles,  and  make  them  conduce  to 
my  support  ?  Surely,  morally,  there  could  be  no  wrong 
in  my  taking  them.  Before  proceeding,  however,  to 
pack  them  up,  I  saw  Wallace  Nelles,  and  sent  him  in 
search  of  his  father,  to  tell  him  I  must  have  money  to 
start  upon  the  trip  which  was  to  take  me  out  of  his  way 
forever. 

Wallace  went  away,  and  was  gone  a  long  time.  I 
waited  as  long  as  I  dared,  and  then  went  to  work  to 
packing  up,  in  a  box,  the  articles  upon  which  I  designed 
to  raise  the  means  for  the  prosecution  of  my  journey.  I 
took  two  comforts,  all  the  sheets  and  pillows  in  the  house, 
all  the  best  dishes,  and  some  other  articles,  and  packed 
them  in  a  box;  and  my  only  regret,  when  I  looked  around 
me,  was  that  so  much  had  to  be  left.  About  the  time  my 
packing  was  finished,  Wallace  came  back,  and  said  he 
could  not  find  my  husband,  and  immediately  went  away 
again. 

Meantime,  however,  an  express  wagon  had  come  for 
my  baggage ;  the  driver  was  already  grumbling,  and  say- 
ing we  would  be  too  late  for  the  train,  and  no  more 
time  could  be  spared  to  wait  for  my  truant  husband.  My 
trunk  and  box  were  therefore  loaded  into  the  wagon,  I 
clambered  up  to  a  seat  beside  the  driver,  and  before  Wal- 
lace got  out  of  sight  he  saw  us  trundling  away  to  the  Cen- 
tral Depot.  Arrived  there,  we  found  the  prediction  of 
the  expressman  true;  the  train  was  just  moving  out  as 
we  entered  the  inclosure,  and  there  was  nothing  for  me 
to  do  but  to  wait  for  the  next  train. 

Before  it  was  time  forthe  next  train  to  leave,  Nelles 


232  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

came,  gave  me  fifteen  dollars,  accompanied  me  on  board 
the  cars  and  found  me  a  seat,  bade  me  a  cold  adieu,  left 
me  alone,  and,  in  a  short  time,  I  was  on  my  way  to  push 
my  fortune  among  entire  strangers  as  best  I  might. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  233 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

As  the  train  slowly  moved  out  from  the  depot  into  the 
darkness  of  the  night  (for  it  was  nearly  eight  o'clock,  of 
a  dreary,  stormy  night,  on  which  I  left  Chicago),  I  felt  that 
I  was  really  alone  and  desolate  in  the  wide  world;  and 
my  heart  sunk  within  me  as  I  thought  of  my  prospects 
for  the  future.  I  was  going  to  a  place  of  which  I  knew 
nothing,  and  where  there  was  not  a  single  soul  whom  I 
knew,  to  enter  upon  the  duties  of  a  life  of  which  I  had  had 
no  experience,  and  my  purse  contained  just  fifteen  dol- 
lars— all  my  fortune — and  even  a  part  of  that  I  must  pay 
for  my  ride  to  my  destination.  And  then,  what  if  my 
experiment  at  Niles  should  prove  a  failure — what  would 
become  of  me  in  that  event  ?     Heaven  only  knew. 

These  thoughts  occupied  my  mind  during  the  entire  of 
my  ride  from  Chicago  to  Niles,  and  most  effectually  pre* 
vented  me  from  sleeping  any  of  the  time;  and,  when  we 
reached  my  stopping  place,  I  knew  not  what  to  do  or 
where  to  go.  I  had  never  stopped  there  before,  did  not 
know  a  single  soul  in  the  place,  and  had  no  idea  where 
my  employer  lived  or  where  to  make  inquiries  for  him. 
I  inquired  of  several  persons,  and  was  finally  directed  to 
an  aristocratic  looking  (for  that  place)  mansion,  where  I 
found  what  was  expected  to  be  my  future  home,  and  first 
met  with  the  woman  whom,  for  the  first  time  since  my 
childhood,  I  was  to  call  mistress.  That  first  interview 
satisfied  me  that  my  stay  at  her  house  would  be  short. 
There  was  an  air  of  haughty  disdain  about  her,  a  sort  of 
reckless  contempt  for  the  feelings  of  others,  which,  though 


234 

regarded  by  some  of  the  shoddy  aristocracy  of  the  pres- 
ent day  as  evidence  of  good  breeding,  is,  in  my  judgment, 
the  very  reverse,  and  stamps  its  possessor  as  at  once 
devoid  of  all  the  finer  feelings  which  mark  the  true  gen- 
tleman or  lady. 

What,  though  the  necessities  of  society  demand  that 
there  should  be  gradations  and  distinct  classifications 
among  its  members;  what,  though  some  are  born  to 
wealth  and  fortune  and  others  to  poverty  and  toil :  is  that 
any  reason  why  the  first  is  any  better,  or  has  any  finer 
feelings,  than  the  last  ?  If  one  is  born  to  an  heritage  of 
poverty,  and  compelled  to  labor,  from  day  to  day,  in  order 
to  obtain  the  bread  which  sustains  their  existence,  and 
another  is  born  to  wealth,  and  thus  enabled  to  employ  the 
paid  labor  of  the  less  fortunate  class :  does  that,  by  any 
means,  demonstrate  that  the  latter  class  is  possessed  of  all 
the  finer  feelings  and  sensibilities  of  our  common  human- 
ity ;  or  does  it  give  them  a  right  to  trample  upon  and  disre- 
gard all  the  feelings  of  their  less  fortunate  employes  ?  Or, 
suppose  one  to  be  born  to  wealth  and  station,  and  by  some 
reverse  of  fortune  be  swept  from  their  high  estate  to  min- 
gle in  the  walks  of  poverty  and  want;  and,  suppose 
another  born  in  the  circle  of  indigence,  and,  by  some 
stroke  of  fortune,  be  suddenly  placed  in  the  possession  of 
the  most  boundless  wealth :  can  any  advocate  of  the  priv- 
ilege of  aristocracy  tell  me  by  what  sort  of  alchemy  the 
first  is  at  once  debased  into  an  animal  destitute  of  all 
feeling  and  sensibility,  while  the  last  is  at  once  invested 
with  all  those  delicate  nerves  which,  in  the  opinion  of 
some,  make  up  the  delicate  lady  of  fashion  ?  No,  indeed. 
Well  has  the  poet  said — 

^'  Honor  and  fame  from  no  condition  rise, 
Act  well  your  part — there  all  the  honor  lies." 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  235 

Before  I  had  been  with  my  new  mistress  two  days  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  to  leave  her,  and  resort  to  some  other 
means  of  earning  my  livelihood.  The  haughtiness  and 
contempt  for  the  feelings  of  her  employes,  which  I  had 
marked  during  our  first  interview,  were  displayed  in  the 
most  offensive  manner  upon  every  possible  occasion,  and 
soon  rendered  my  position  there  not  only  unpleasant  but 
unendurable.  I  accordingly  left  there,  and,  having  determ- 
ined to  try  some  other  mode  of  earning  a  livelihood,  left 
Niles  for  Detroit. 

Arrived  there,  I  rented  a  small  house,  already  furnished, 
took  two  or  three  boarders,  and  also  took  some  washing 
to  do.  Getting  to  Detroit  had  consumed  my  fifteen  dol- 
lars, and  I  hardly  knew  what  I  should  do  to  get  along 
until  my  boarders  began  to  pay  up,  which,  of  course,  I  did 
not  expect  them  to  do  until  the  end  of  a  week  at  any  rate. 
My  washing,  however,  brought  me  a  little  money,  and  I 
managed  to  get  along,  though  compelled  to  go  in  debt  at 
my  grocer's  and  my  butcher's.  I  wrote  to  Nelles,  telling 
him  of  my  situation  and  asking  some  assistance  from  him, 
but  without  eliciting  any  reply.  Doubtless  he  was  too 
much  engaged  to  take  any  notice  of  letters  from  one  who 
was  no  more  to  him  than  his  wife.  He  had  gotten  me  out 
of  his  way  and  did  not  intend  to  be  troubled  with  me  any 
more. 

Still  I  struggled  on,  and  tried  to  make  a  comfortable 
living,  but  the  work  was  too  hard  for  me,  and  I  soon  found 
that  something  else  must  be  done.  I  could  either  have 
managed  my  boarding-house,  or  done  what  washing  was  on 
hand,  but  both  together  I  could  not  do,  and  neither  one 
alone  would  support  me.  I  have  already  informed  the 
reader  that  Captain  Lake  was  dead — his  wife  had  returned 
to  her  family  in  the  South,  and  there  was  no  one  to  whom 


236  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

I  could  apply  for  advice  or  assistance ;  but  one  thing  was 
manifest  —  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  stay  there  and 
live  in  this  way.  Accordingly  I  gave  up  my  house,  and, 
going  to  an  employment  office,  applied  for  a  situation. 
They  sent  me  to  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Cones,  an  Express 
agent,  and  a  most  thorough  and  perfect  gentleman. 

Upon  arriving  at  his  house,  I  found  the  family  to  con- 
sist only  of  himself,  his  wife  and  her  sister,  and  his  father- 
in-law,  one  of  the  kindest  and  most  agreeable  old  gentle- 
men I  ever  knew.  They  were  all  very  kind  to  me,  but 
this  good  old  man  was  more  than  kind — he  could  not  have 
treated  me  more  affectionately  had  I  been  his  daughter. 
I  hired  to  them  to  do  general  house-work,  at  two  dollars 
per  w^eek,  and  for  a  time  everything  passed  oJBf  in  the 
most  pleasant  and  agreeable  manner.  The  work  was  not 
beyond  my  strength,  and  the  family  could  not  have  treated 
me  better  than  they  did.  I  passed  for  a  young  widow,  an<. 
for  some  time  no  one  of  the  many  visitors  at  Mrs.  Cones', 
or  even  the  family,  knew  any  better. 

But,  although  my  lot  was  outwardly  as  happy  as  could 
have  been  expected  under  the  circumstances,  inwardly  my 
mind  was  borne  down  by  a  weight  of  sorrow  almost  too 
heavy  to  be  borne.  Nor  is  it  strange  that  such  should 
have  been  the  case ;  for  what  was  there  in  my  past  life  to 
excite  any  but  the  most  sorrowful  feelings  ?  My  life  had 
been  one  constant  scene  of  clouds  and  darkness,  with 
only  here  and  there  a  ray  of  sunshine,  which  served  but 
to  make  darkness,  both  preceding  and  following  it,  more 
dense,  impenetrable  and  frightful.  And  in  my  present 
employment  I  had  abundance  of  time  and  opportunity  to 
think  of  these  things.  As  I  daily  witnessed  the  happi- 
ness of  the  family  around  me,  and  compared  it  with  my  own 
wretched  lot,  it  made  my  own  fortune  appear  so  dark  by 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  237 

the  contrast,  that  it  well-nigh  made  me  murmur  against 
the  justice  of  God  who  had  meted  out  such  different  for- 
tunes to  us.  Do  not  think  I  envied  them  their  happiness. 
I  did  not,  nor  would  I  have  detracted  one  single  atom  from 
their  felicity  to  have  purchased  for  myself  a  lifetime  of 
unalloyed  happiness — but  I  could  not  help  making  the 
contrast  between  their  lot  and  mine. 

Constant  brooding  over  these  things  was  not  without  its 
sad  effects,  not  only  upon  my  mind,  but  also  upon  my 
physical  health.  I  became  first  moody  and  morose,  and 
then,  finally,  really  ill,  and  unable  to  perform  my  daily 
tasks.  I  was  compelled  to  abstain  altogether  from  work, 
and  took  to  my  bed,  from  which  it  was  thought  for  some 
days,  I  would  never  rise.  But  the  kind  care  and  atten- 
tion of  Mrs.  Cones  and  her  sister,  aided  by  my  naturally 
strong  constitution,  triumphed  over  the  disease,  and  in 
time  I  was  restored  to  comparative  health  once  more. 

During  my  sickness  I  had  been  deranged  a  great  part 
of  the  time,  and  had  raved  almost  constantly  about  my 
family  troubles,  thus  most  effectually  revealing  the  fact 
that  I  was  other  than  I  seemed.  And  when,  as  my  con- 
valescence approached,  Mrs.  Cones  came  to  me  one  day 
and  seating  herself  by  my  bedside,  asked  me  to  tell  her 
all  about  my  past  life,  and  who  Eugene  Mason  and  Frank 
Nelles  were,  I  expected  to  be  severely  blamed  for  having 
deceived  her  as  to  my  being  a  widow.  But  not  so.  As 
I  explained  my  situation  to  her,  the  tears  of  sympathy 
welled  up  from  her  warm,  full  heart,  and  gathering  me  to 
her  bosom,  she  said : 

"  My  poor  child !  how  you  have  suffered.  Why  did  you 
not  tell  me  of  this  before  ?" 

"Because,  I  was  ashamed  to  reveal  the  story  of  my 
troubles.     I  preferred  to  suffer  them  in  silence  rather  than 


238 

inflict  so  uninteresting  and  unlovely  a  tale  upon  any  one 
else." 

"  And  this  silent  suffering  is  what  has  made  you  sick. 
If  you  had  confided  your  secret  to  me,  had  shared  it  with 
me,  it  would  have  been  safe,  and  you  most  likely  spared 
this  fit  of  sickness." 

"  I  know  I  ought  have  trusted  you,  but  I  was  afraid  to. 
One  is  so  uncertain  of  meeting  any  sympathy  in  this 
world." 

"  That  is  true,  but  no  one  ever  appealed  to  me  in  vain. 
I  must  tell  my  husband,  and  we  will  then  see  what  can 
be  done  for  you." 

Mr.  Cones  asked  me  some  questions,  after  hearing  my 
story  from  his  wife,  and  then  wrote  a  letter  to  Nelles  in 
which  he  told  him  I  was  there  sick,  out  of  money  and  in 
debt,  and  that  he  ought  to  do  something  for  me.  No  an- 
swer was  ever  received  to  this  letter,  and,  as  the  weary 
days  grew  into  a  week,  the  anxiety  which  I  constantly 
endured  about  my  situation  caused  me  to  relapse,  and 
again  I  lay  at  death's  door,  and  again  Mr.  Cones  com- 
municated my  condition  to  Mr.  Nelles.  He  informed 
him  by  telegraph  of  my  severe  illness,  and  told  him  if 
he  wanted  to  see  me  alive  to  come  on  without  delay ;  but 
to  this  dispatch  no  answer  was  ever  vouchsafed.  I  was 
at  that  time  inclined  to  be  charitable,  and  to  think  that 
Nelles  had  never  received  this  letter  and  telegram,  but 
he  has  since  acknowledged  to  me  that  he  did  receive 
both !  So  much  for  the  love  he  once  professed  for  me. 
Had  our  situations  been  reversed,  and  had  he  sent  for  me,  I 
would  have  gone  to  him,  had  I  gone  barefooted  and  begged 
my  way  from  house  to  house.  But  I  can  not  believe  that 
all  men  are  thus  inconstant. 

But  it  was  not  the  will  of  Providence  that  I  should  die 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  239 

at  this  time.  Gradually  I  recovered — little  by  little  health 
and  strength  came  back  to  my  wasted  and  enfeebled  frame, 
until  at  last  I  was  able  to  leave  my  bed,  then  my  room, 
and,  finally,  the  house.  As  soon  as  my  health  was  suffi- 
ciently restored  to  enable  me  to  go  about,  I  began  making 
arrangements  to  leave  my  kind  friends;  for  I  felt  that 
more  active  life  was  what  I  needed — ^something  in  which 
there  would  be  less  of  monotony,  and  in  which  the  excite- 
ment of  change  would  prevent  my  mind  from  brooding  so 
constantly  over  the  dark  past.  It  was  this  which  had 
caused  my  sickness,  and  I  feared  to  encounter  the  same 
dread  monster  again.  They  urged  me  to  remain  with 
them ;  but,  when  I  gave  them  my  reasons  for  going,  they 
acquiesced  in  their  justice  and  propriety,  and  ceased  to 
offer  any  further  opposition.  They  asked  me  what  I  in- 
tended to  do ;  but  this  was  something  I  had  not  decided 
upon.  Mr.  Cones  then  suggested  that  I  should  engage  in 
canvassing  for  some  publishing-house — in  short,  should 
become  a  "Book  Agent."  I  did  not  like  this  much  at 
first,  fearing  I  should  fail ;  but,  at  any  rate,  it  would  pos- 
sess the  merit  of  constant  change — would  keep  my 
thoughts  employed  —  and  I  finally  decided  to  adopt  it. 

This  matter  settled,  the  next  question  was,  where,  and 
frojn  what  house,  I  would  endeavor  to  obtain  employment. 
After  debating  the  pros  and  cons  of  various  places,  for 
some  time,  I  at  last  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  return 
to  Chicago  and  seek  employment  there.  The  reader  may 
think  strange  that  I  decided  to  go  to  a  place  where  I  had 
endured  so  much  of  sorrow,  and  where  so  many  of  my 
bitterest  enemies  were  living;  but  I  had  an  object  in  so 
doing,  which  will  more  fully  appear  in  the  sequel. 

But,  before  going  to  Chicago,  I  wished  to  go  to  Indiana 
and  locate  my  residence  there.     I  had  several  objects  in 


240  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

doing  this :  the  first  of  which  was  this — ^I  had  determined 
to  obtain  a  divorce  from  my  unworthy  husband,  in  case 
certain  matters  turned  out  as  I  thought  they  would,  upon 
my  visit  to  Chicago ;  and  I  had  been  informed  that  the 
laws  of  that  State  were  such  as  to  render  the  attainment 
of  that  object  comparatively  easy  and  inexpensive  to  a 
resident  of  the  State ;  and,  as  I  had  no  particular  ties  to 
bind  me  to  one  place  more  than  another,  I  might  as  well 
live  where  I  could  easily  accomplish  this  object  as  any 
place  else.  And,  I  may  remark  here,  that  I  have  never 
seen  any  occasion  to  regret  having  chosen  that  State  for 
my  residence.  Some  of  my  warmest  friends  are  inhabit- 
ants of  the  noble  State  of  Indiana;  and,  in  all  parts  of 
the  State,  I  have  met  with  a  kindliness  of  feeling,  and  a 
genuine  heart-welcome,  which  convinces  me  that  the 
Hoosiers  are  as  generous  in  sentiment  as  their  soldiers, 
in  the  late  civil  war,  proved  themselves  to  be  brave  and 
fearless  in  battle.     But  to  return  to  my  story. 

As  my  funds  had  long  since  been  exhausted,  I  had  but 
one  way  of  raising  the  means  necessary  to  prosecute  my 
plans,  and  that  was  by  selling  some  of  my  clothing.  Mr. 
Cones  offered  to  loan  me  the  money;  but  his  kindness 
had  already  been  severely  taxed,  and  I  was  unwilling  to 
test  it  any  further ;  preferring  to  be  independent,  if  it  was 
in  my  power.  I  accordingly  went  out  and  sold  my  wed- 
ding-dress and  some  other  clothing,  from  which  I  realized 
a  very  handsome  sum  of  money,  and  started  for  Indian- 
apolis. Upon  arriving  there  I  selected  lodgings,  left  the 
greater  part  of  my  clothing  there,  taking  with  me  only 
enough  for  a  change  or  two,  and  started  for  Chicago,  to 
see  what  could  be  done  in  the  way  of  pushing  my  fortune. 
Another  object,  which  I  wished  to  accomplish,  was  to 
learn  if  Nelles  was  still  living,  what  he  w^as  doing,  whether 


THE    LIFE    OF    A   BOOK   AGENT.  241 

he  had  received  Mr.  Cones'  letter  and  dispatch,  and  why- 
he  had  not  answered  them. 

Upon  reaching  Chicago,  I  wxnt  at  once  to  the  railroad 
office,  on  State  street,  and  called  for  Mr.  Webb,  the  Super- 
intendent. Pie  and  Nelles  were  well  acquainted,  and  I 
felt  confident  he  could  tell  me  of  his  whereabouts  if  he 
was  in  the  city,  and  my  confidence  was  not,  in  this  in- 
stance at  least,  at  all  misplaced.  He  told  me  at  once  that 
Nelles  was  in  the  city,  was  alive  and  well,  and  was  work- 
ing for  a  man  by  the  name  of  Lake,  on  Randolph  street, 
near  Union.  I  knew  the  place  very  well — went  there, 
and  almost  the  first  person  I  met  was  my  step-son,  Wal- 
lace. He  seemed  very  much  surprised  to  see  me,  they 
having  considered  me  dead  some  time  since,  but  he  seemed 
pleased  at  the  meeting,  and  when  I  asked  if  his  father  was 
there,  promptly  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  at  once  went 
to  call  him. 

He  came,  but  oh!  how  cold  and  constrained  the  meet- 
ing. He  did  not  ask  me  where  I  was  living,  nor  about 
my  health,  or  manifest  the  least  interest  in  my  welfare, 
nor  would  he  even  take  me  to  his  boarding-house,  or  tell 
me  where  it  w^as.  I  then  asked  him  for  some  money  to 
pay  my  expenses,  but  he  refused,  saying  he  had  none  that 
he  could  spare.  He,  however,  promised  to  come  to  the 
Rock  Island  House,  in  the  evening,  to  see  me,  and  said  he 
would  then  give  me  some  money.  But  he  only  said  this 
for  the  purpose  of  getting  rid  of  me,  for  he  never  came 
near  me.  I  must  not  omit  to  state  that,  in  this  interview, 
he  admitted  that  he  had  received  Mr.  Cones'  letter  and 
telegram  during  my  illness,  but  offered  no  excuse  for  not 
answering  them  in  any  way. 

After  this  interview,  I  went  back  to  the  Rock  Island 
House,  fully  resolved  in  my  own  mind,  if  he  did  not  come 
16 


242 

(and  I  had  not  much  idea  he  would)  that  evening,  according 
to  his  promise,  never  to  call  upon  him  for  assistance  again, 
or  in  any  way  to  recognize  him  as  my  husband,  save  by 
going  on  with  my  proceeding  for  divorce  just  as  early  as 
the  laws  of  the  State,  where  my  residence  now  was,  would 
permit  of  my  doing  so.  Evening  came,  but,  according  to 
my  anticipations,  he  did  not,  and  from  that  day  to  this  I 
have  never  seen  or  communicated  with  him. 

At  the  Rock  Island  House  I  got  hold  of  the  Chicago 
Tribune,  and  turning  at  once  to  the  column  of  "  Wants," 
found  the  following  notice  : 

Wanted,  Agents,  both  ladies  and  gentlemen,  to  canvass 
for  "  Tried  and  True,  or  Love  and  Loyalty,"  a  new  book 
destined  to  have  an  immense  sale.  Apply  to  W.  J.  Hol- 
land, 38  Lombard  Block,  Chicago. 

The  name  of  the  work  struck  me  favorably,  and  I  de- 
termined to  apply  at  once  for  a  situation.  But  it  was  too 
late  to  do  anything  that  evening,  and  beside,  I  was  a  lit- 
tle in  hopes  that  Nelles  would  keep  his  promise,  and  call 
on  me  that  evening.  I  therefore  cut  out  the  advertise- 
ment, resolving  to  call  at  the  place  indicated  early  the 
next  morning. 

The  next  morning  at  ten  o'clock  found  me  at  No.  38 
Lombard  Block.  The  gentleman  in  attendance  was  very 
kind  and  pleasant,  and,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries,  told  me 
the  work  was  just  out;  that  he  was  the  general  agent  for 
Hlinois,  and  he  thought  an  active,  energetic  agent  could  do 
well  with  the  work.  He  gave  me  the  terms  upon  which 
the  work  would  be  furnished  to  agents,  and  the  price  at 
which  they  would  be  allowed  to  sell  it.  I  was  at  that 
time  very  green  in  relation  to  such  matters,  and  thought 
the  margin  allowed  was  enormous,  and  that  a  fortune 
would  in  a  short  time  crown  my  efforts.     Though  I  have 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  243 

since  learned  by  experience  that  the  colors  in  which  the 
business  was  then  presented  to  my  view  were  more  roseate 
than  the  facts  warranted,  still  I  take  occasion  to  say  that 
the  energetic,  active  book  agent,  who  pursues  the  busi- 
ness with  tact  and  judgment,  need  never  fear  such  a  thing 
as  a  failure.  If  properly  doing  their  duty,  they  are  cer- 
tain of  fair  returns,  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view,  while 
the  avocation  presents  the  ever-recurring  charm  of  novelty 
and  change,  and  affords  facilities  for  the  study  of  human 
nature  almost  unequaled  by  any  other  pursuit.  But  to 
return  to  my  interview  with  Mr.  Holland. 

He  asked  me  where  I  wished  to  canvass,  and  suggested 
Peoria  County,  Illinois,  as  a  good  place ;  and  having  no 
objections  to  going  there,  I  finally  made  arrangements  with 
him  to  canvass  exclusively  that  county,  if  I  should  decide 
to  canvass  for  him  at  all.  He  then  told  me  that  my  first 
book  would  cost  two  dollars  and  a  half,  which  must  be 
paid  in  advance,  and  that  circulars,  subscription  books, 
and  all  other  necessary  documents  would  be  furnished 
free  of  charge.  I  had  not  the  money  to  pay  him  for  my 
first  book,  but  was  too  proud  to  tell  him  so,  and  therefore 
left,  promising  to  call  on  Monday,  and  acquaint  him  with 
my  determination. 

I  at  once  began  to  cast  about  to  see  where  I  could  raise 
the  money  necessary  to  start  in  business.  It  would  cost 
me  between  fourteen  and  fifteen  dollars  to  pay  my  hotel 
bill,  buy  my  book,  pay  my  fare  to  Peoria,  and  meet  such 
other  expenses  as  I  must  necessarily  incur  before  I  could 
get  to  work.  What  could  I  dispose  of  to  raise  it  ?  I  had 
no  clothing  with  me  that  I  could  spare,  and  I  could  think 
of  nothing  but  my  canary  birds.  And  yet,  how  could  I 
part  with  them  ?  They  had  been  my  companions  ever 
since  that  cold  parting  with  my  husband  at  the  Central 


244  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

Depot  in  Chicago ;  they  were  my  only  pets,  and  seemed 
almost  as  dear  to  me  as  though  they  had  been  children 
of  my  own  flesh  and  blood.  Then  I  thought  of  my  watch. 
Perhaps  something  could  be  raised  on  that.  I  went  to  a 
pawnbroker,  and,  showing  him  my  watch,  asked  him  how 
much  he  would  loan  me  on  it.  He  replied,  eight  dol- 
lars was  all  he  could  afford.  This  would  not  meet  my 
necessities,  and  now  no  resource  was  left  but  to  sell  my 
birds. 

I  took  them  and  went  upon  Madison  street,  and  was 
there  told,  by  a  gentleman,  that  I  might  leave  them  with 
him  for  a  time,  and  let  him  hear  them  sing,  and  if  they 
suited  him  he  would  buy  them.  They  were,  I  think,  the 
sweetest  singers  I  ever  heard  in  my  life,  and  were  cer- 
tainly the  most  perfect  pets  I  ever  saw.  One  of  them  in 
particular,  would  come  out  of  the  cage  and  lie  in  my  hand 
as  if  dead,  while  I  would  pretend  to  cry  over  it  and  mourn 
for  it.  But  this  time  it  was  no  pretense  with  me.  As  I  dis- 
played this  little  trick  to  the  gentleman,  I  cried  in  reality 
as  though  my  heart  would  break  at  the  thought  of  parting 
with  them. 

When  I  came  back,  after  an  absence  of  about  an  hour, 
I  told  the  gentleman  I  could  not  sell  my  birds,  but  if  he 
would  let  me  have  seven  dollars  (the  amount  he  proposed 
to  give  for  them),  I  would  leave  them  with  him,  with  the 
understanding  that  if,  at  any  time,  I  came  back  and  paid 
him  the  seven  dollars,  with  interest  at  the  rate  of  twenty- 
five  per  cent.,  he  should  return  them  to  me.  To  this  he 
assented,  and  I  then  cried  worse  than  ever.  Had  they 
been  children  it  would  not  have  been  more  painful  to  me 
to  have  parted  with  them,  but  it  was  finally  done,  and  I 
went  back  to  the  hotel,  where  I  took  another  crying  spell. 
The  landlady  came  in  and  asked  me  what  was  the  matter. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  245 

I  told  her  I  had  sold  my  birds — that  I  was  going  out  canvass- 
ing, and,  of  course,  could  not  take  them  with  me,  and  hence 
had  sold  them.  I  was  too  proud  to  tell  her  that  they 
had  been  sold  to  raise  the  money  to  start  me  in  business, 
and  hence  put  it  upon  the  ground  of  my  inability  to  care 
for  them.  She  replied  that  I  need  not  have  sold  them, 
for  she  would  have  taken  care  of  them  for  me,  but  I  an- 
swered it  was  now  done  and  could  not  be  helped. 

I  was  now  in  possession  of  fifteen  dollars,  my  sole  and 
entire  capital,  and  was  about  starting  out  with  that  sum 
(or  rather  what  would  be  left  of  it  after  paying  my  hotel 
bill)  to  seek  my  fortune.  This  may  seem  like  rather  a 
slender  foundation  for  such  a  fortune  as  I  hoped  to  accu- 
mulate in  time ;  but  it  is  one  of  the  beauties  of  our  busi- 
ness that  it  requires  little  or  no  capital  to  start  in  it.  If, 
like  me,  you  can  raise  funds  enough  to  buy  your  book 
and  an  old  basket  to  carry  it  in,  and  can  then  pay  your  fare 
to  the  place  where  you  are  going  to  work,  you  are  all  right. 

I  waited  until  Monday,  then  went  to  Mr.  Holland  and 
paid  him  for  a  book,  thus  concluding  the  contract  between 
us,  and  made  my  arrangements  to  proceed  to  my  field  of 
labor  that  very  afternoon.  Before  going,  however,  I  must 
purchase  something  or  other  in  which  to  carry  my  book 
and  papers.  Time  enough  for  that  yet,  however,  and,  as 
my  business  was  finally  settled  and  my  mind  relieved,  I 
went  to  call  upon  an  old  friend  for  a  short  time  before 
leaving  the  city,  most  likely  forever. 

This  visit  was  productive  of  pleasure  in  more  ways  than 
one,  aside  from  a  little  matter  of  business,  by  means  of 
which  my  outfit  was  finally  completed.  In  the  first  place, 
I  had  a  very  pleasant  visit  with  the  lady  upon  whom  I 
called,  told  her  all  about  my  plans  and  prospects  for  the 
future,  and  received  her  congratulations  and  well  wishes. 


246 

Then,  just  as  I  was  about  leaving,  another  old  and  valued 
friend  came  in — one  who  had  been  a  friend  to  me  in  time 
of  trouble — and  my  story  had  to  be  repeated  to  her,  much 
to  her  astonishment.  Mrs.  Gregg,  the  last  comer,  was 
one  of  those  kind,  clever  bodies,  whom  everybody  loves 
and  regards  as  a  sister,  and  who  can  keep  any  article, 
be  it  clothing  or  anything  else,  forever  and  a  day  after. 
She  had  in  her  hand  an  old-fashioned  basket,  one,  per- 
haps, that  had  been  used  to  hold  the  fragments  of  fish  we 
read  of  in  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  Matthew,  but  which, 
owing  to  her  wonderful  tact  in  the  art  of  preservation, 
was  still  sound  and  in  good  repair.  As  I  looked  at  this 
basket,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  me  that  this  was  the  very 
thing  to  answer  my  purpose. 

"  Mrs.  Gregg,"  said  I,  abruptly,  "  what  will  you  take  for 
your  basket  ?" 

"  My  basket,"  said  the  good  lady,  turning  it  over  and 
looking  at  it  on  all  sides ;  "do  n't  make  fun  of  my  bas- 
ket. It  has  been  my  constant  companion  for  a  great  many 
years." 

"  I  am  not  making  fun  of  it,  I  assure  you.  I  am  in  so- 
ber earnest.  It  is  just  the  thing  to  use  in  my  canvassing, 
and  I  really  want  to  buy  it  of  you." 

"  Well,  Annie,  if  you  are  in  earnest,  I  may,  perhaps,  let 
you  have  it.  But  I  supposed  you  were  only  making  fun 
of  it  because  it  is  old-fashioned." 

"  Indeed,  I  was  not." 

"Well,"  said  the  lady,  again  turning  the  basket  around, 
and  looking  at  it  on  all  sides,  "  you  may  have  it  for  one 
dollar." 

"I  will  take  it." 

I  paid  her  the  dollar,  she  emptied  the  basket,  and  it  was 
transferred  to  my  possession,  and  has  been  my  constant 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  247 

companion  ever  since.  I  have  carried  it  wherever  I  Avent, 
and  shall  always  keep  it  as  a  souvenir  of  one  of  the  best 
friends  I  ever  had  j  and  she  can  keep  a  certain  pitcher  to 
remind  her  of  me  and  a  certain  moving-day. 

I  then  went  to  the  hotel,  paid  my  bill,  went  to  the  de- 
pot and  bought  a  ticket  to  Peoria.  This  left  just  ten  cents 
in  my  possession,  and  with  this  small  fortune  I  took  my 
seat  on  the  cars,  and  was  soon  whirling  out  of  the  city  to 
my  new  field  of  labor. 


248  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

As  the  cars  bore  me  rapidly  onward  toward  the  place 
selected  in  which  I  was  to  begin  my  career  as  a  "  Book 
Agent,"  I  had  abundant  time  to  review  the  situation  and 
decide  upon  my  course  of  action  when  I  should  finally 
arrive  at  the  field.  And  the  first  point  to  determine  was, 
how  to  get  along  with  my  ridiculously  small  fund  and  pay 
my  way  until  returns  from  my  labors  began  to  come  in, 
which  would  most  likely  be  a  week  or  more.  Rather  a 
difficult  problem,  say  you,  my  dear  reader  ?  This  may  be 
so  5  and  yet  I  found  means  to  solve  it  to  my  entire  satis- 
faction. Upon  one  thing  I  was  determined — not  to  betray 
the  low  state  of  my  finances  to  any  one,  for  this  could  not 
be  otherwise  than  disastrous  to  all  my  future  plans.  Such 
is  the  disposition  of  the  world:  let  it  be  supposed  that 
one  has  money ;  no  matter  whether  he  possesses  honesty, 
merit,  or  anything  else  which  should  commend  him  to  the 
confidence  of  the  public,  and  every  one  is  ready  to  stretch 
forth  the  helping  hand;  men  will  go  out  of  their  way,  get 
down  on  their  knees  and  crawl  in  the  dirt,  for  the  purpose 
of  doing  him  a  favor,  whether  they  expect  to  receive  any 
reward  for  it  or  not.  But  no  matter  what  his  merits 
may  be,  let  it  be  understood  (whether  correctly  or  other- 
wise) that  his  purse  is  light,  and  none  are  ready  to  assist 
him,  even  though  by  so  doing  they  were  sure  to  immedi- 
ately and  pecuniarily  benefit  themselves;  no  faces  are 
wreathed  in  smiles  at  his  approach ;  no  hand  is  stretched 
forth  to  relieve  his  most  pressing  necessities:  but  he  is 
regarded  with  looks  and  frowns  of  ill-concealed  contempt 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  249 

and  aversion,  while  pockets  are  sternly  buttoned  up,  and 
freezing  coldness  chills  his  very  soul.  Yes ;  if  one  wishes 
to  cut  himself  off  from  all  hope  of  success  in  this  world, 
let  him  only  cause  it  to  be  understood  that  he  is  poor. 
This  I  was  resolved  not  to  do.  No  one  should  know  that 
I  was  without  funds,  and  was  dependent  upon  my  daily 
labor  for  my  support.  I  would  stop  at  the  best  hotel  in 
Peoria,  leave  my  baggage  (I  had  sent  to  Indianapolis  and 
obtained  a  trunk  full  of  my  clothing)  in  the  hands  of  the 
landlord  as  security  for  my  bill,  and  go  to  work  with 
energy  and  vigor,  trusting  in  a  kind  Providence  to  crown 
my  efforts  with  success.  And  I  may  add  here,  that  the 
result  has  more  than  justified  my  expectations. 

In  due  time  we  arrived  at  Peoria,  and  then,  for  the  first 
time,  my  heart  failed  me  in  regard  to  the  task  before  me. 
Entirely  without  experience  in  the  work  to  which  I  had 
addressed  myself — alone,  in  a  large  city,  where  there  was 
not  a  single  human  being  whom  I  had  seen  or  of  whom  I 
knew  anything — no  one  to  whom  I  could  apply  for  advice 
or  assistance  in  case  of  emergency — is  it  strange  that  my 
heart  should  be  somewhat  cast  down,  and  that  my  soul 
should  shrink,  somewhat,  from  the  contest  at  hand;  the 
bitter  struggle  with  poverty  and  want,  in  which  there 
were,  at  least,  as  many  chances  against  me  as  there  were 
in  my  favor?  Add  to  these  reflections  the  confusion 
created  in  my  mind  by  the  din  and  bustle  ever  attendant 
upon  the  arrival  of  a  train :  the  hackmen,  porters,  omnibus- 
drivers,  and  all  of  that  ilk,  filling  the  air  and  torturing  the 
ear  with  cries  of  all  kinds;  each  one  praising  his  own 
line,  or  his  own  house,  or  his  own  carriage,  as  superior  to 
any  and  all  others,  and  the  reader  (who  doubtless  has  ex- 
perienced, to  his  or  her  satisfaction,  all  these  annoyances 
of  travel)  will  not  be  surprised  that,  for  a  short  time,  our 


250  ANNIE  NELLES  ;   OR, 

new-made  book  agent  stood  utterly  bewildered,  dumb- 
foundered,  and  at  a  loss  what  to  do  or  where  to  go. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  I  had  so  carefully  laid 
and  so  fully  digested  all  my  plans  of  action  during  the 
passage  of  the  train  from  Chicago,  I  fancy  I  was,  for  a 
time,  as  pitiable  a  spectacle  of  indecision  and  uncertainty 
as  was  ever  seen  upon  this  mundane  sphere.  It  now 
affords  me  much  amusement  to  recall  the  incidents  of 
that  first  arrival  in  Peoria;  but,  then,  believe  me,  dear 
reader,  it  was  no  laughing  matter.  I  have  no  doubt  the 
bystanders  all  thought  that  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever 
disembarked  from  a  railway  train ;  and,  most  certainly,  my 
conduct  was  such  as  not  to  give  the  lie  to  such  a  supposi- 
tion. But  relief  at  last  came.  As  I  stood,  surrounded 
by  a  crowd  of  porters,  hackmen,  and  the  like,  each  one 
of  whom  was  anxious  to  serve  me  (they  did  not  know 
that  ten  cents  was  all  my  fortune),  a  gentleman  and  lady, 
whom  I  had  noticed  on  the  train,  but  with  whom  I  had 
had  no  conversation,  approached  me,  and  the  gentleman 
kindly  asked  me  where  I  wished  to  go.  I  told  him  that 
I  was  a  stranger  in  the  city,  having  never  been  there  be- 
fore, and  that  I  wanted  to  go  to  a  good  hotel.  He 
informed  me  that  he  lived  in  the  city ;  that  himself  and 
wife  were  going  up  in  town,  and  that  if  I  would  accom- 
pany them  they  would  show  me  the  way  to  the  Peoria 
House,  the  best  hotel  in  the  place.  I  thanked  him  heart- 
ily for  his  kindness  to  a  perfect  stranger,  and  we  at  once 
set  out,  on  foot,  for  our  destination.  After  walking  three 
or  four  blocks,  we  came  in  sight  of  a  large  brick  house 
near  the  public  square. 

*  "  There,  Miss,"  said  my  guide,  pointing  to  a  large  brick 
building,  "  is  the  Peoria  House." 

Again  I  thanked  him  for  his  kindness,  and,  crossing  the 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  251 

street,  went  up  a  short  flight  of  steps  into  the  house,  and 
passed  into  the  parlor.  My  heart  beat  violently  as  I  rung 
the  bell.  "What  if  I  should  fail,  after  all,"  I  thought; 
"  what  will  become  of  me." 

A  boy  came  in  answer  to  my  summons,  and  stood  await- 
ing my  order.  I  told  him  I  wanted  a  room.  He  retired, 
and  in  a  short  time  a  gentleman  came  in  with  a  key  in 
his  hand,  and,  bowing  politely,  inquired  if  I  wished  a 
room. 

"  If  you  please,  sir." 

"  Have  you  any  baggage,  madam  ?" 

"  My  trunk  is  at  the  depot,"  I  replied,  handing  him  my 
check ;  "  will  you  send  for  it  ?" 

^'Certainly,  madam;  will  you  have  it  sent  to  your 
room  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     Can  I  have  supper  ?" 

"Yes,  I  will  show  you  to  your  room,  and  will  then  or- 
der supper.     What  will  you  have  ?" 

"  Nothing  but  a  cup  of  tea.  I  am  not  well  and  can  eat 
but  a  mouthful." 

He  led  the  way  up  one  flight  of  stairs  into  a  small  room 
above  the  parlor,  placed  the  light  (for  it  was  now  quite 
dark)  on  a  small  table  in  the  room,  bowed  again  and  with- 
drew. I  was  alone.  Yes,  in  that  immense  building,  filled 
with  guests,  in  the  very  heart  of  a  populous  city,  I  was 
alone.  There  was  not  a  soul  among  all  the  many  thou- 
sands almost  within  sound  of  my  voice  upon  whom  I  could 
call  for  assistance  of  any  kind,  for  comfort,  or  even  sym- 
pathy. I  had  fairly  launched  my  frail  bark  upon  the  tem- 
pestuous ocean  of  life,  and  was  about  to  undertake  the 
voyage  with  no  comrade  to  cheer  me,  no  chart  or  compass 
to  guide  my  wanderings,  and  no  hope,  save  in  the  kind- 
ness of  an  overruling  Providence,  and  my  own  courage 


252 

and  energy.  Ah !  what  if  they  should  fail  me  at  some 
critical  moment  ?  I  looked  around  the  room.  It  was  fur- 
nished as  hotel  rooms  usually  are;  a  single  bed,  two 
chairs,  a  wash-stand  and  small  table,  while  a  hempen  car- 
pet covered  the  floor.  There  was  nothing  peculiar  in  the 
room,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  see  the  word  "fail- 
ure "  written  on  every  article  it  contained.  Doubtless  my 
nervous  excitement  tended  to  give  the  room  a  more  gloomy 
look  than  it  really  possessed,  for  I  afterward  found  it  to  be 
one  of  the  most  pleasant  rooms  in  the  house.  Such  is  the 
influence  of  the  mind  upon  our  outward  senses. 

At  length  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  the  messen- 
ger boy  came  in  to  tell  me  my  tea  was  ready  and  show  me 
the  way  to  the  dining-room.  I  went  down  and  found  they 
had  prepared  a  very  fine  lunch  for  me,  for  it  was  past  the 
usual  supper  hour,  but  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  eat. 
Every  morsel  I  tried  to  swallow  seemed  to  choke  me,  and, 
after  drinking  part  of  a  cup  of  tea,  I  rose  from  the  table 
and  returned  to  my  room.  I  found  the  bit  of  candle  with 
which  it  was  supplied  had  entirely  burned  out,  and  my 
room  was  in  total  darkness.  With  some  difficulty  I  found 
the  bell-handle,  and  rang  the  bell,  then  waited  patiently 
in  darkness  for  the  messenger,  my  heart  beating  so  vio- 
lently that  I  could  hear  its  pulsations.  I  am  not  cowardly, 
but  on  this  evening  I  was  so  much  oppressed  with  my  own 
feelings,  hopes,  doubts,  and  fears  for  the  future,  that  I  felt 
a  degree  of  timidity  entirely  foreign  to  my  nature.  I  was 
really  and  truly,  in  feeling  and  character,  "a  cat  in  a 
strange  garret. 

The  boy  finally  came  and  brought  me  a  lamp,  and,  as 
soon  as  he  had  gone,  I  undressed  and  went  to  bed,  but  not 
to  sleep.  Fears  and  apprehensions  of  failure  still  run  riot 
through  my  brain,  and  most  effectually  banished  slumber 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  253 

from  my  eyelids.  But  as  I  lay  and  tossed  upon  my  sleep- 
less couch,  I  resolved  anew  that  no  such  word  as  failure 
should  be  found  in  my  vocabulary;  by  my  energy  and  in- 
dustry I  would  deserve  success,  and  if  it  did  not  crown 
my  efforts,  the  fault,  at  least,  should  not  be  mine.  No ;  I 
would  yet  show  that  I  could  live  independent  of  Frank  C. 
Nelles  or  any  one  else ;  that  I  could  carve  my  own  way 
in  the  world,  in  spite  of  the  frowns  of  fortune,  the  incon- 
stancy of  friends,  or  the  treachery  of  those  from  whom  I 
had  a  right  to  expect  better  things.  This  was  my  re- 
solve ;  how  it  has  been  carried  out  let  the  sequel  show. 

I  rose  early  in  the  morning,  made  my  toilet,  and  went 
down  to  the  dining-room.  Breakfast  was  just  ready;  the 
long  hall  was  filled  with  guests  and  boarders,  but,  though 
I  scanned  each  one  closely,  there  was  not  a  single  face  I 
knew.  But  my  nervousness  of  the  night  before  was  all 
gone,  and  the  fact  that  every  one  in  the  room  was  a 
stranger  to  me,  did  not  annoy  or  disconcert  me  in  the 
least.  Nay,  it  was  rather  a  matter  of  gratification  to  me 
that  this  was  so  than  otherwise,  for  I  had  not  then  suc- 
ceeded in  ridding  myself  entirely  of  the  idea,  so  sedu- 
lously inculcated  by  sundry  newspapers,  that  there  was 
something  discreditable  about  the  business  I  was  about 
entering  upon,  and  I  rejoiced  in  the  belief  that  my  first 
attempt  was  to  be  made  entirely  among  strangers.  I  have 
since  learned  to  believe  that  the  avocation  of  a  book 
agent,  though  perhaps  less  elevated  in  the  judgment  of 
the  world  than  some  others,  is  still,  if  pursued  in  a  proper 
and  becoming  manner,  just  as  creditable  as  any  other,  and 
certain  it  is  that,  it  is  as  useful  and  beneficial  to  society 
as  many  others  which  might  be  named.  It  is  undeniable 
that  a  vast  deal  of  useful,  interesting  and  beneficial  litera- 
ture, which  might  otherwise  remain  for  years,  or  perhaps 


254  ANNIE  NELLES  ;   OR, 

forever,  in  comparative  obscurity,  is  brought  prominently 
before  the  public  by  means  of  the  system  of  canvassing 
now  so  much  in  vogue  among  publishers  and  wholesale  and 
retail  book  houses.  And  surely,  no  occupation  which  tends 
so  directly,  and  so  powerfully  to  the  dissemination  of  light 
and  knowledge  among  the  masses,  as  does  book  agency, 
can  be  called  useless,  degrading,  or  disreputable.  Through 
the  efforts  of  the  book  agent,  many  a  family,  who  other- 
wise would  not  purchase  a  book  of  any  kind  from  one 
year's  end  to  another,  is  induced  to  subscribe  for  some 
work  of  interest  and  benefit.  A  taste  for  reading  is  thereby 
cultivated,  for  it  is  well  known  "  the  appetite  grows  upon 
what  it  feeds  upon,"  other  books  are  purchased,  periodi- 
cals are  subscribed  for,  and  in  time  this  family,  first  reached 
by  the  judicious  and  persevering  efforts  of  that  much 
abused  class  of  individuals  of  whom  the  writer  is  proud 
to  be  one,  is  elevated  from  the  slough  of  ignorance  in 
which  they  formerly  wallowed,  to  a  position  of  respecta- 
bility and  credit  among  the  intelligent  ones  of  the  land. 
This  is  no  picture  of  the  imagination.  The  writer  can 
point  to  numerous  instances  in  which  a  taste  for  reading 
and  literature  has  been  first  developed  and  called  into 
being  by  publications  of  which  she  was  the  fortunate 
seller.  But,  says  the  querulous,  objecting  fault-finder,  the 
business  is  not  followed  for  the  purpose  of  doing  good, 
but  only  to  mit  money  into  the  purse  of  the  agent.  Very 
well,  my  cynical  friend,  what  avocation  do  you  follow  ? 
Do  you  pursue  it  for  the  purpose  solely  of  being  useful  to 
your  fellow-men,  or  is  not  the  hope  of  gain  a  slight — just 
a  very  slight  —  incentive  to  your  exertions  ?  And  yet, 
you  would  be  hardly  willing  to  admit  that  your  chosen 
pursuit  was  on  that  account  useless,  and  ought  to  be 
frowned  out  of  existence  by  community,  or  that  it  was  de- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  255x 

grading  to  you.  And  why  judge  us  more  harshly  than 
you  are  willing  to  be  judged  ?  No,  all  occupations,  not  in 
themselves  hurtful  or  immoral,  are  alike  honorable  and 
useful,  and  all  are  alike  pursued  by  their  respective  votar- 
ies for  the  purpose  of  gain.  The  accumulation  of  money 
is  the  prime  object  with  all,  and  no  one  is  disgraced  by 
following  any  laudable  employment  with  all  the  energy 
God  has  given  him,  simply  because  that  is  the  object. 
Human  nature  is  by  the  Omniscence  of  the  Almighty  so 
constituted  that  all  occupations  and  all  professions  are 
necessary  to  each  other,  and  it  does  not  become  the  fol- 
low^er  of  one  occupation  to  sneer  at  another,  and  to  say, 
"I  am  more  respectable  and  more  useful  to  community 
than  thou  art."     But  let  us  return  from  this  digression. 

My  abstinence  of  the  evening  before,  together  with  my 
long  railroad  ride,  had  given  me  a  keen  appetite ;  we  had 
a  good  breakfast,  and  the  reader  may  be  assured  I  did 
ample  justice  to  it.  Then  armed  with  the  veritable  old 
basket  purchased  of  my  friend  Mrs.  Gregg,  and  containing 
my  subscription  book,  and  specimen  copy  of  the  book,  I 
sallied  forth  in  quest  of  subscribers.  It  must  be  confessed 
that  my  heart  palpitated  a  trifle  quicker  than  usual,  as  I 
approached  a  gentleman  and  asked  him  to  look  at  my 
book,  and,  if  it  pleased  him,  to  subscribe  for  it.  He  was 
the  proprietor  of  a  large  dry  goods  store,  and  he  looked 
at  the  book  with  so  much  apparent  interest,  that  I  felt 
very  confident  my  first  attempt  in  the  line  of  my  new 
business  was  about  to  prove  a  success.  But  not  so.  After 
looking  at  it  for  some  time,  he  finally  handed  it  back  to 
me,  declining  to  subscribe ;  but  his  refusal  was  couched  in 
such  kind  and  gentlemanly  terms,  that  so  far  from  feeling 
disheartened  by  this  first  failure,  I  was  rather  encouraged 
than  otherwise.     Had  I  met  with  such  an  unkind  and  ill- 


256 


ANNIE    NELLES;    OH, 


natured  refusal  as  I  have  since  frequently  done,  I  am  by 
no  means  sure  but  my  book  agency  would  have  terminated 
then  and  there,  for  my  spirits  were  not  then  strong  enough 
to  endure  a  very  severe  rebuff. 

But  his  kindly  disposition  encouraged  me,  and  I  turned 
from  that  first  interview  more  resolved  than  ever  that  suc- 
cess should  finally  crown  my  efforts.  I  left  the  old  gen- 
tleman and  went  into  another  store  where  my  utmost 
efforts  to  obtain  a  single  subscriber  were  doomed  to  disap- 
pointment. There  were  several  clerks  there,  all  of  whom 
looked  at  the  book,  but  none  were  willing  to  invest  any 
amount  in  it.  And  the  same  result  attended  my  applica- 
tion at  several  stores  in  the  same  vicinity;  all  declined  to 
subscribe.  The  reasons  given  for  refusal  were  as  various 
and  as  numerous  as  the  persons  to  whom  application  was 
made.  One  said :  "  I  would  take  the  book,  but  have  no 
place  to  keep  it ; "  another,  "  That  is  not  my  style  of  read- 
ing at  all;"  another,  "I  am  not  able  to  buy  it;"  while 
still  another,  belonging  to  the  class  who  believe  everybody 
dishonest,  perhaps  because  they  judge  others  by  them- 
selves, perhaps  from  some  other  cause,  said :  "I  never  sub- 
scribe for  anything ;  if  I  want  a  book,  I  go  and  buy  it,  but 
no  book  agents  for  me."  I  have  often  since  heard  the 
same  reason  given,  and  I  never  heard  it  without  thinking 
to  myself  that  the  utterer  would  take  the  last  crust  of 
bread  from  a  widow  and  her  starving  children,  provided  he 
could  do  so  with  safety;  that  nature  designed  him  for  a 
knave  and  sharper,  and  that  nothing  but  lack  of  opportu- 
nity, want  of  ability,  or  the  fear  of  the  law  prevented  him 
from  becoming  one.  No  man  ever  charged  all  his  fellow- 
men  with  being  dishonest  unless  he  was  conscious  of  some 
want  of  principle  himself,  or,  unless  he  was  deficient  in 
good  sound  sense,  and  thought  to  acquire  a  reputation  for 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  257 

being  sharp  by  suspecting  the  motives  and  intentions  of 
everybody  else.  But  those  who  belong  to  the  latter  class 
can  rest  assured  that,  so  far  from  achieving  such  reputa- 
tion, they  are  certain  to  be  rated  at  their  true  value  by 
those  who  listen  to  their  silly  pretensions. 

And  thus  the  time  wore  away.  I  visited  place  after 
place,  and  tried  in  vain  to  awaken  sufficient  interest  in  my 
book  to  induce  somebody  to  buy  it,  until  the  forenoon  was 
nearly  spent;  nothing  had  been  done,  and  I  was  almost 
disheartened.  It  seemed  almost  impossible  for  me  to  go 
back  to  my  hotel  without  at  least  one  subscriber,  and  yet 
the  prospect  that  I  would  be  compelled  to  do  so  seemed 
very  bright.  Coming  at  length  to  a  flight  of  stairs  run- 
ning up  from  the  street,  I  mechanically  ascended  them, 
though,  it  must  be  confessed,  with  but  little  hope  of  effect- 
ing anything.  Near  the  head  of  the  stairs  was  a  low 
office,  occupied  by  a  Mr.  King,  and  I  hesitated  some  time 
whether  to  venture  in  there  or  not,  but  finally  decided  to 
try  it.  Mr.  King  received  me  in  a  very  gentlemanly  man- 
ner, listened  courteously  to  my  request,  examined  the 
book,  and,  better  than  all,  subscribed  for  it.  Eureka !  I 
had  made  a  beginning  at  last.  The  ice  was  broken,  and, 
with  renewed  confidence,  I  went  in  search  of  further  pat- 
ronage, for  I  now  had  a  name  to  which  I  could  refer  those 
whom  I  solicited  to  subscribe. 

The  next  room  was  occupied  by  a  lawyer  by  the  name 
of  Brown.  As  soon  as  I  showed  him  my  book,  and  told 
him  Mr.  King  had  subscribed — "  Well,"  said  he,  in  an  ab- 
rupt, but  pleasant  sort  of  way,  "if  King  can  stand  it,  I 
guess  I  can."  And  down  went  his  name."  Just  across 
the  hall  was  a  sign  informing  the  public  that  H.  M.  Har- 
ris dispensed  law  (and,  I  suppose,  justice,)  to  those  who 
were  in  need  of  his  services,  and  I  went  in  there.  Upon 
17 


258 

making  my  business  known,  Mr.  Harris  at  once  put  his 
name  down.  I  went  down  that  flight  of  stairs  with  a 
much  lighter  heart  than  when  I  went  up.  Three  subscri- 
bers had  been  secured,  and  they  were  names  which  would 
be  available  to  me  as  references  in  my  future  canvassing. 
And  in  the  very  next  room  I  found  proof  of  this  opinion. 
It  was  a  shoe-store,  situated  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase  I 
had  just  descended.  The  gentleman  in  attendance  received 
me  very  politely,  and  when  my  book  was  presented  for  his 
inspection,  seemed  very  much  pleased  with  it,  and  in  an- 
swer to  my  remark  that  I  had  just  commenced  canvassing, 
and  had  only  taken  three  names,  asked  to  see  my  list.  I 
handed  it  to  him. 

"  H.  M.  Harris ;  good  lawyer  and  good  man.  W.  P. 
Brown;  I  know  him:  he  is  a  fine  fellow.  And  King, 
too — Madam,  you  have  three  of  the  best  names  in  Peo- 
ria.    How  much  did  you  say  ?  " 

"Two  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents." 
"  I  will  take  one.     When  will  you  deliver  ?  " 
"I  will  bring  the  book  in  a  few  days.     Good  morn- 
ing, sir." 

"  Good  morning,  madam.  Success  to  you." 
I  went  into  the  next  store ;  but  there  my  good  names 
availed  me  nothing.  They  wanted  nothing  of  the  land — 
would  not  even  look  at  my  book,  or  even  hardly  let  me 
tell  them  what  it  was.  It  is  just  barely  possible,  from 
what  I  have  since  learned  of  the  politics  of  that  estab- 
lishment, that  the  last  word  in  the  title  of  the  book  w^as 
offensive  to  the  proprietor,  and  hence  his  very  abrupt 
refusal  to  look  at  it.  This  did  not,  however,  occur  to  me 
at  the  time.  I  only  thought  he  was  decidedly  mean  in 
refusing  to  look  at  the  work  at  all.  I  thought,  even  if  he 
did  not  wish  to  subscribe,  he  might  at  least  have  treated 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  269 

me  kindly,  and  refused  in  a  gentlemanly  manner.  But, 
never  mind;  I  had  already,  in  the  first  half  day  of  my 
canvassing,  sold  four  copies;  and  this  was  anything  but 
discouraging. 

It  was  now  noon,  and  time  for  me  to  return  to  my 
hotel  for  dinner.  But  with  how  much  more  elation  of 
spirits  I  entered  that  hotel  than  I  had  quitted  it  in  the 
morning  the  reader  may  well  imagine.  My  success,  in 
the  avocation  I  had  chosen,  seemed  to  me  now  assured, 
and  the  idea  of  failure  was  now  forever  banished  from  my 
cogitations.  In  proportion  as  my  spirits  had  been  de- 
pressed before  fairly  entering  upon  my  work,  they  were 
now  elated ;  and  visions  of  wealth  and  ease  arose  before 
me.  My  mind  was  just  as  much  in  fault  in  one  instance 
as  in  the  other,  and  I  had  yet  much  to  learn  in  regard  to 
my  new  profession.  I  had  yet  to  learn  that,  because  one 
half  day's  labor  had  been  attended  with  some  degree  of 
profit,  I  was  not  to  regard  my  success  as  fully  assured; 
but  that  in  this,  as  in  all  other  avocations,  constant,  ener- 
getic and  judicious  perseverance  were  necessary  to  attain 
one's  object;  that  reverses  of  various  kinds  were  to  be 
anticipated,  and  that  the  book  agent,  who  fancied  his 
calling  an  easy  as  well  as  lucrative  one,  was  doomed  to 
the  most  certain  and  painful  disappointment.  That  the 
business  is  profitable,  if  well  and  judiciously  pursued,  is 
undoubtedly  true ;  but  it  is  equally  true,  that  it  is  profita- 
ble only  when  it  is  pursued  with  the  most  ceaseless  and 
indefatigable  energy. 

After  dinner  was  over — and,  by  the  way,  I  ate  much 
more  heartily  than  at  breakfast,  from  some  cause  or 
other — I  went  up  into  the  parlor.  There  was  a  large 
number  of  ladies  in  the  room,  and  the  idea  occurred  to  me 
that  it  would  be  a  good  time  to  exhibit  a  pleasing,  as  well 


260  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

as  profitable  combination  of  business  and  pleasure.  Ac- 
cordingly, I  went  and  got  my  book,  and  asked  the  ladies 
to  look  at  it ;  telling  them  I  had  arrived  in  the  city  only 
the  night  before;  had  been  out  that  morning,  and  had 
sold  four  copies,  and  that  I  hoped  to  sell  a  large  number 
in  that  very  room  before  going  out  again.  The  book 
seemed  to  please  them  very  well;  for  five  of  them  put 
their  names  down  at  once,  and  others  said  they  would 
subscribe  as  soon  as  they  could  see  their  husbands 
While  we  were  still  talking  about  the  book,  a  young  man 
came  in  to  call  on  a  young  lady  who  was  in  the  room, 
and  she  at  once  besought  him  to  make  her  a  present  of  the 
book.  Of  course  he  could  not  very  well  refuse,  and 
down  went  the  name  of  Miss  Kate  Freeman,  the  gentle- 
man handing  me  two  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents,  and 
telling  me  to  deliver  the  book  to  her  when  it  came. 

I  fancied  I  had  now  done  a  very  good  day's  work,  and, 
as  I  had  some  letters  to  write,  decided  not  to  go  out  that 
afternoon  at  all.  I  accordingly  wrote  to  Mr.  Holland  to 
send  me  twenty  copies  of  the  book,  the  price  to  be  col- 
lected on  delivery  by  the  express  company,  and  then 
set  about  finding  some  place  where  my  living  would  be 
less  expensive  than  at  the  Peoria  House.  Although  my 
business  appeared  to  be  prosperous,  still  two  dollars  a  day 
was  a  heavy  drain  on  my  finances,  and  one  that  I  was 
anxious  to  avoid  if  possible.  I  found  a  very  pleasant  place 
with  a  most  estimable  lady,  and  secured  a  room  at  six 
dollars  a  week,  and  then  went  to  settle  my  bill  at  the 
hotel  and  move  to  my  new  home.  At  the  Peoria  House 
my  bill  was  two  dollars  and  a  half,  and  a  drayman  took 
my  trunk  to  my  boarding  house  for  twenty-five  cents :  so 
that  I  arrived  there  with  just  the  same  amount  of  money 
I  had  on  arriving  in  the  city,  to  wit :  ten  cents.     But  I 


THE    LIFE    OF    A   BOOK   AGENT.  261 

did  not  feel  as  much  disheartened  as  then ;  for  I  now  had 
on  the  subscription  book,  which  was  then  a  blank,  no  less 
than  ten  names,  each  one  of  which  was  worth  a  dollar  to 
me ;  that  being  the  profit  allowed  me  on  each  copy  sold. 
Even  if  I  did  not  take  another  name  for  a  week,  I  would 
still  be  able  to  pay  my  board  and  have  some  money  left; 
and,  of  course,  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  I  would  do 
nothing  in  that  time.  I  liked  the  business,  and  certainly 
my  prospects  were  all  that  could  be  desired. 

After  a  good  night's  rest  in  my  new  place  of  abode,  I 
went  to  work  again  with  vigor,  and  worked  hard  all  the 
next  day,  excepting  only  the  time  absolutely  necessary  to 
go  to  my  meals,  and,  when  I  came  to  count  up  the  pro- 
ceeds of  the  labor  of  the  day,  found  that  my  list  had  been 
increased  by  eleven  names.  I  now  had,  in  all,  twenty-one 
names,  representing,  as  the  net  proceeds  of  two  day's 
canvassing,  no  less  than  twenty-one  dollars  in  my  purse. 
True  the  money  was  not  in  my  hands  yet,  but  then  I  felt 
sure  of  it  all.  Surely  it  would  not  be  difficult  for  me  to 
live  at  that  rate.  Twenty-one  dollars  in  two  days,  was 
more  than  in  the  wildest  dreams  of  my  imagination  I  had 
ever  dared  to  hope.  Who  would  not  be  a  book  agent 
when  such  returns  as  this  were  received  ?  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  who  would  be  a  book  agent  when  such  scenes 
as  are  described  in  my  opening  chapter  are  presented? 
But  in  my  experience  the  good  has  far  outweighed  the 
evil  since  adopting  my  present  calling. 

The  next  day,  I  canvassed  all  day,  and  came  home  at 
night  with  eight  new  names,  and  one  of  them,  a  gentle- 
man boarding  at  the  same  house,  had  paid  me  in  advance 
for  his  copy,  upon  condition  that  he  should  be  allowed  to 
read  my  copy  at  once.  To  this  I  agreed  upon  the  further 
condition  that,  inasmuch  as  I  had  never  read  the  book 


262  ANNIE   NELLES  ;    OR, 

myself,  he  should  read  it  aloud  to  me.  I  would  then  be 
much  better  prepared  to  explain  the  character  of  the  book, 
and  doubted  not  the  effect  upon  my  sales  would  be  very 
considerable.  I  found  the  book  to  be  very  interesting, 
and  well  worth  the  price  asked  for  it. 

The  next  day  my  efforts  were  rewarded  with  the  addi- 
tion of  six  names  to  my  already  very  respectable  list.  It 
is  true  my  sales  to-day  had  not  equaled  those  of  either 
of  the  other  days,  but  still  six  dollars  was  no  mean  day's 
work,  and  could  I  only  be  assured  of  that  each  day  of  my 
labor,  it  would  be  very  satisfactory.  At  any  rate  it  would 
afford  me  a  very  comfortable  living,  and  enable  me  to 
"'  lay  up  something  for  a  rainy  day,"  and  for  old  age.  And 
this  is  all  any  one  ought  to  ask  in  this  world,  for  it  is  all 
that  is  really  worth  having. 

In  the  evening  I  went  to  the  express  office,  and  found 
that  my  twenty  copies  had  come,  but  there  was  no  less 
than  thirty-five  dollars  to  be  paid  on  them,  and  my  purse 
contained,  in  treasury-note  and  postage  currency,  the  sum 
of  two  dollars  and  eighty-five  cents,  all  told.  I  counted 
it  over  and  over  again  in  the  vain  hope  that  more  could  be 
made  of  it,  but  the  result  was  just  the  same  every  time — 
one  two-dollar  bill,  one  fifty-cent  piece,  one  twenty-five 
cent  piece,  and  one  ten  cent-piece,  all  current  money 
of  the  United  States,  was  everything  I  could  find.  The 
agent  observed  my  perplexity  and  kindly  relieved  me  from 
my  difficulty,  after  asking  some  questions,  by  telling  me 
to  take  one  book  and  deliver  it ;  then  with  the  proceeds 
of  that  sale  get  another,  and  so  on  until  the  whole  were 
taken. 

How  gladly  I  accepted  his  offer.  I  paid  him  one  dollar 
and  three-quarters  for  one  book,  then  got  the  money  for 
that  and  had  enough  to  get  two  more ;  then  got  three  and 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  263 

delivered  them,  paying  in  each  time  what  money  I  re- 
ceived until  the  whole  twenty  were  delivered,  and  I  had 
twenty  dollars  in  my  purse.  Twenty  dollars  did  I  say  ? 
Let  me  not  forget  the  faithful  ten  cents  which  had  stood 
by  me  so  long.  I  had  twenty  dollars  and  ten  cents,  less, 
of  course,  the  amount  paid  at  the  hotel,  and  the  amount  I 
paid  the  drayman  for  moving  me  to  my  present  very  com- 
fortable quarters. 

But  why  inflict  upon  my  readers  the  details  of  each  day's 
work?  Why  annoy  them  with  the  particulars  of  each 
refusal  I  met  with,  from  purse-proud,  haughty,  self-sufficient 
individuals,  who  could  see  nothing  meritorious  in  a  woman 
struggling  against  adverse  fate  to  earn  an  honest  liveli- 
hood, or  in  the  book  which  such  a  woman  would  sell — 
why  mention  the  covert  sneers,  under  the  cloak  of  friendly 
advice,  with  which  my  applications  were  often  met  by 
those  who  claimed  to  be  gentlemen,  but  whose  gentility 
would  never  be  recognized  by  the  world,  but  for  this 
claim — why  recount  the  particulars  of  the  kindly  words, 
and  friendly  wishes,  which  with  some  noble  natures  even 
took  away  the  pain  of  their  refusal,  and  which  were  really 
strengthening  to  my  soul — I  say,  why  burden  the  pages 
of  this  record  with  all  these  ?  Suffice  it  to  say  that  when 
my  weekly  report  for  the  week  ending  on  Saturday  was 
sent  to  the  general  agent,  I  was  able  to  report  sales  of  no 
less  than  forty  copies. 

Forty  subscribers  in  one  week !  Only  think  of  that ! 
Forty  dollars  earned  fairly  and  honestly  by  my  own  hon- 
est toil!  Why,  Nelles  only  received  fifty-five  dollars  a 
month  from  the  railroad  company,  and  I  could  earn  nearly 
that  amount  in  a  week.  Hurrah  for  the  life  of  a  book 
agent !  No  more  hard  work  for  me.  No  more  w^ashing 
for  the  miserable  pittance  of  a  few  dollars  a  day— that 


264  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

was  "  played  out,"  to  use  a  slang  phrase.  No,  indeed.  I 
was  far  above  that  sort  of  labor.  I  would  soon  be  rich.  I 
would  save  all  the  money  I  earned,  and,  in  a  short  time, 
would  be  able  not  only  to  redeem  my  watch ;  but  my  dar- 
ling pets,  my  precious  canary  birds — they,  too,  were  in 
pawn,  and  must  be  redeemed.  Oh!  yes,  I  had  use  for 
all  the  money  I  could  earn,  and  it  could  not  come  too  fast. 
Such,  dear  reader,  were  the  reflections  caused  by  my 
first  flush  of  success  in  the  business  of  a  book  agent.  How 
these  reflections  and  these  hopes  have  been  realized  will 
appear  in  the  subsequent  pages  of  this  book. 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  265 


CHAPTER    XX. 

I  CLOSED  my  last  chapter  with  an  account  of  my  first 
week's  work  as  a  book  agent,  and  certainly  the  results  of 
that  week  were  sufficient  to  justify  the  most  sanguine  an- 
ticipations for  the  future.  But,  like  everything  else,  the 
business  has  its  ups  and  downs;  its  dark,  as  well  as  its 
light  seasons ;  its  rainy  days,  as  well  as  its  sunshine ;  and, 
having  had  a  season  of  the  latter,  I  was  now  about  to  take 
my  turn  at  the  former. 

On  Sunday  it  began  to  rain,  and  continued  nearly  the 
entire  day :  not  a  fierce,  dashing  rain,  such  as,  by  its  very 
violence,  gives  the  very  best  possible  evidence  of  speedy 
cessation ;  but  a  dull,  drizzling  rain,  which,  while  it  is  suf- 
ficiently violent  to  keep  one  within  doors,  not  unfrequently 
lasts  a  week  or  more:  just  the  kind  of  rain  to  dampen 
one's  ardor  in  any  enterprise,  and  most  effectually  depress 
the  spirits.  How  I  hoped  it  would  not  rain  on  Monday ! 
With  what  eager  anxiety,  as  evening  approached,  did  I 
scan  the  horizon  in  hopes  of  detecting  some  indications 
of  an  abatement  of  the  storm,  which,  if  it  continued, 
would  be  very  likely  to  prevent  me  from  doing  anything 
the  next  day.  Yain  hope.  The  sun  went  down  with  his 
face  entirely  hidden  in  clouds ;  and,  as  the  shades  of  night 
rapidly  gathered  around,  the  storm,  instead  of  giving  any 
indications  of  abatement,  seemed  to  thicken  and  gather 
additional  force,  and  I  finally  retired  to  rest  with  the  con- 
viction that  the  next  day  would  be  marked  "lost"  in  my 
calendar. 

And  the  morning  did  not  give  the  lie  to  my  anticipa- 


266  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

tions  of  the  evening  before.  It  seemed  to  me,  as  I  gazed 
at  the  dull,  leaden  sky,  and  listened  to  the  dreary,  mo- 
notonous patter  of  the  falling  rain,  that  a  more  gloomy  or  dis- 
mal day  had  never  dawned  upon  my  vision,  and  I  knew  not 
what  to  do.  At  one  time  I  thought  that,  in  spite  of  the  ele- 
ments and  in  defiance  of  the  wrath  of  the  storm-king,  I  would 
venture  out  and  try  to  do  something.  It  really  seemed  to 
me  that  the  state  of  my  finances  would  not  admit  of  my 
losing  the  day ;  that  I  could  not  afibrd  to  be  idle,  but  must 
go  to  work,  rain  or  shine,  at  any  and  all  hazards.  But, 
then,  no  one  would  buy  books  on  such  a  day  as  this.  My 
efibrts  to  do  anything  would  be  unavailing,  and  would,  per- 
haps, only  result  in  inducing  a  fit  of  sickness,  which  would 
not  only  cause  me  to  lose  much  more  time,  but  would  ab- 
sorb all  my  little  accumulation  of  the  last  week. 

Accordingly  I  decided  not  to  go  out,  but  to  put  in  that 
day  at  least  in  reading  my  book,  make  myself  acquainted 
with  it,  and  trust  kind  fortune  for  the  morrow.  But  for- 
tune, at  least  so  far  as  the  weather  was  concerned,  refused 
to  smile  upon  me.  The  next  day  the  storm  still  continued 
and  still  I  staid  at  home.  On  Wednesday  it  was  the  same^ 
and  my  spirits  sunk  to  the  lowest  possible  ebb. 

The  next  day  I  resolved  to  wait  no  longer,  but  to  go  to 
work  in  spite  of  the  weather,  and  trust  my  own  determ- 
ined energy  to  accomplish  something.  Accordingly  I  bor- 
rowed an  umbrella  of  one  of  the  lady  boarders,  went  out 
and  bought  one  for  myself;  then,  with  my  dress  looped  up 
to  keep  it  out  of  the  mud,  and  my  faithful  old  basket  on 
my  arm,  I  set  out  upon  my  doubtful  mission. 

I  went  to  a  large  building,  the  second  story  of  which 
was  filled  with  oifices,  for  I  had  found  that  the  men  usu- 
ally termed  professional,  were  those  who  most  liberally 
patronized  me,  and  if  anything  at  all  could  be  done,  it 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  267 

would  most  certainly  be  among  that  class.  The  first  place 
I  visited  was  the  office  of  a  celebrated  physician  of  the 
city,  fie  was  sitting  with  his  feet  upon  a  table,  his  hands 
clasped  behind  his  head,  and  gazing  moodily  out  of  the 
window.  I  accosted  him  and  explained  my  business  to 
him. 

"  The  day  is  too  dull  and  gloomy  to  buy  or  read  books," 
said  he,  without  changing  his  position  in  the  least. 

"But,  Doctor,  consider.  A  gentleman  certainly  ought 
to  be  willing  to  patronize  a  lady  who  has  the  hardihood  to 
go  out  on  such  a  day  as  this." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  get  married,  and  then  you  will 
not  have  to  go  out  to  work  on  such  days  as  this  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  I  am  not  on  the  marriage  list.  I  do 
not  think  I  would  be  any  better  off  married  than  I  am  un- 
married.    But  will  you  subscribe  for  my  book  ?" 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  I  would  not  ?" 

"No,  sir;  you  said  no  such  thing.  But  even  if  you 
had  said  it,  I  am  sure  you  would  not  allow  my  industry 
on  such  a  day  as  this  to  go  unrewarded." 

"  What  is  your  industry  to  me  ?  Why  should  I  care 
whether  you  are  industrious  or  not  ?" 

"  Because  it  is  natural  for  every  industrious  man  to  like 
to  see  others  as  much  so  as  himself" 

"  But  how  do  you  know  that  I  am  industrious  ?" 

"  Because,  no  man  without  the  greatest  amount  of  in- 
dustry could  attain  to  the  eminence  you  have  in  your  pro- 
fession.    Come,  Doctor,  give  me  your  name." 

"  Well,  you  are  certainly  persevering,  as  well  as  indus- 
trious, and  you  deserve  to  succeed.  It  shall  not  be  my 
fault  if  you  do  not." 

With  that  he  put  his  name  down  on  my  list.  The  little 
bit  of  flattery  in  which  I  indulged,  though  very  barefaced, 


268 

had  evidently  found  the  weak  spot  in  his  armor  and  set- 
tled the  business  for  him.  I  thanked  him,  and  went  out 
from  his  presence  smiling  to  myself  at  the  ease  with  which 
I  had  penetrated  his  reserve. 

My  next  stopping  place  was  an  insurance  office.  Sun- 
dry brass  plates  and  signs  gave  information  that  the  occu- 
pant was  fully  prepared  to  insure  against  fire,  death, 
sickness,  accident,  and  everything  else,  while  the  walls  were 
covered  with  show  cards  of  every  description,  setting  forth 
the  special  merits  of  each  particular  company  represented 
there.  At  the  desk  sat  a  gruff,  cross-looking  old  man, 
and,  at  the  first  glance,  my  heart  sunk  at  the  prospect  of 
making  any  impression  on  him.  However,  I  would  not 
go  away  without  trying,  and  so  I  approached  him. 

"  I  have  called  this  morning,  sir,  in  hopes  to  sell  you  a 
book.  It  is  just  published,  and  is  very  interesting.  Will 
you  look  at  it  ?" 

"  No ;  I  do  n't  want  to  buy  any  books.  Go  away.  Do  n't 
bother  me.     Do  n't  you  see  I  am  busy  ?" 

"  But,  sir,  I  think  if  you  would  look  at  this,  you  would 
subscribe  for  it." 

"I  tell  you,  I  don't  want  it.  I  never  subscribe  for 
books." 

"I  have  come  out  this  dismal,  rainy  day,  to  try  to  earn 
an  honest  living.  Please,  sir,  look  at  my  book :  I  think 
your  daughter  would  like  it." 

"Who  told  you  I  had  a  daughter?" 

"No  one,  sir." 

"How  did  you  know  it,  then?" 

"I  only  thought  so.  You  look  like  the  kind,  indulgent 
father  of  a  lovely  daughter.     Have  you  a  daughter,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes ;  I  have  as  lovely  a  daughter  as  any  parent  need 
wish.     Let  me  look  at  your  book." 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  269 

"  Here  it  is,  sir." 

"  It  is  very  nicely  bound,  and  appears  to  be  readable.  I 
guess  my  girl  would  like  it.  Let  me  see  your  list  of  names. 
You  have  a  good  many  subscribers,  but  my  daughter's 
name  is  not  here ;  so  I  will  put  it  down,  and  you  can  de- 
liver the  book  here." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

"  There,  you  have  got  me  to  subscribe  after  I  said  I 
would  not :  now,  take  your  traps  and  be  oK  You  touched 
me  in  the  right  place  when  you  spoke  of  my  girl." 

"  Good  day,  sir." 

And  as  I  went  down  stairs  I  almost  laughed  aloud  at 
the  result  of  my  little  impromptu  stratagem  for  circum- 
venting old  "  Crusty,"  as  I  have  named  him.  Should  he 
see  this  book  he  will  recognize  the  circumstance  above  re- 
lated, and  may  not  feel  specially  honored  by  the  patro- 
nymic here  given  him.  But  he  must  learn  to  be  more  civil 
to  callers,  even  if  they  do  not  come  to  have  their  lives  or 
property  insured,  and  thus  put  money  in  his  purse. 

I  called  at  several  other  places  that  forenoon,  but  with 
uniform  want  of  success.  Not  another  name  could  I  ob- 
tain, either  by  persuasion,  entreaty  or  stratagem.  Well, 
two  names  in  half  a  day,  and  such  a  day  as  this,  too,  is 
better  than  nothing,  and  I  will  e'en  go  home  to  dinner,  and 
hope  for  better  luck  next  time.  But  in  the  afternoon  the 
rain  was  even  worse  than  in  the  morning,  and  go  out  I 
could  not,  though  it  seemed  almost  impossible  for  me  to  be 
idle.  It  had  taken  all  I  had  made  last  week  to  pay  my 
w^ay  thus  far  and  redeem  my  watch  and  birds  (which  I  had 
already  done),  except  six  dollars  and  a  few  cents.  I  could 
pay  my  board  that  week,  but  where  was  the  means  to  come 
from  to  pay  the  next  ?    Still,  it  would  not  help  matters  any 


270  ANNIE  NELLES  ;   OR, 

to  fret  over  it;  and  all  that  could  be  done  was  to  wait,  and 
hope,  and  pray  for  better  weather. 

It  was  well  for  me  that  I  made  hay  while  the  sun  shone, 
for  it  was  utterly  out  of  the  question  for  me  to  do  anything 
niore  that  week.  The  rain  poured  down  so  unceasingly 
that  it  seemed  to  me  it  must  stop  from  sheer  exhaustion 
of  the  elements  long  before  it  did. 

Saturday  evening  finally  came,  and  my  weekly  report 
had  to  be  sent  forward  to  the  general  agent.  The  weather 
had  not  admitted  of  my  doing  anything  more,  and  I  had 
but  the  two  names  to  report  instead  of  the  forty  which  had 
crowned  my  first  week's  labors  in  this  place.  The  con- 
trast was  so  great  that  I  was  almost  tempted  not  to  send 
any  report,  but,  upon  reflection,  concluded  that  the  matter 
could  be  so  explained  as  to  leave  no  unpleasant  impres- 
sions on  the  mind  of  the  general  agent.  Most  certainly 
the  horrid,  rainy  weather  of  the  past  week  was  a  sufficient 
excuse  for  the  small  amount  of  work  done.  Accordingly, 
I  sent  off  the  document  with  such  explanation  as  I  could 
give,  and  in  due  time  received  a  letter  from  the  general 
agent  to  the  effect  that  it  was  satisfactory,  and  wishing  me 
better  luck  in  the  future. 

Sunday  was  a  clear  day,  and  I  thought  that  the  storm- 
god  had  exhausted  his  forces,  and  that  I  would  surely  go 
to  work  on  Monday  with  some  prospect  of  success.  But 
when  the  morning  came  I  found  that  he  had  only  been  ac- 
cumulating fresh  strength  for  the  next  day,  for  it  poured 
down  harder  than  ever,  and  all  hope  of  doing  anything 
for  that  day  was  at  an  end.  I  had  paid  the  landlady  my 
board  for  the  week  just  closed,  and  had  but  a  few  cents  left 
in  my  pocket;  and,  unless  the  weather  cleared  up  soon,  I 
should  have  nothing  when  the  next  installment  became 
due.     But,  be  that  as  it  might,  it  was  now  very  clear  that 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  271 

nothing  could  be  done  that  day,  and  I  therefore  made  no 
efifort  to  go  out  at  all. 

Tuesday  came,  and  it  was  still  no  better,  and  another 
day  was  lost,  and  I  was  getting  almost  discouraged.  But 
I  tried  to  do  a  little  something.  I  went  out  in  the  after- 
noon and  went  to  all  the  public  offices,  but  all  my  efforts 
were  in  vain.  No  one  would  subscribe;  and  heart-sick 
and  weary  I  wended  my  way  home  again  in  the  evening, 
almost  willing  to  surrender  my  agency  and  resort  to  some 
other  means  of  earning  a  livelihood.  Indeed,  had  I  been 
able,  at  that  time,  to  think  of  something  else  w^hich  prom- 
ised sufficient  returns  to  support  me,  it  is  very  likely  I 
should  have  embraced  it ;  but  all  around  me  were  stran- 
gers, and  with  no  one  to  recommend  or  aid  me,  nothing 
could  be  done  aside  from  the  path  already  marked  out, 
and  all  I  could  do  was  to  take  the  bad  weather  with  what 
patience  I  could  muster;  and,  by  this  time,  my  small 
stock  of  that  virtue  so  necessary  to  every  book  agent  was 
well-nigh  exhausted. 

And  so  the  week  passed  away,  in  rain  and  mud  and 
idleness.  It  is  true  that,  on  Thursday,  with  a  sort  of 
reckless  energy,  I  went  out  for  a  while,  and  tried  to 
redeem  a  part  of  the  lost  past ;  but,  after  spending  half 
an  hour  or  more  in  inducing  one  man  to  subscribe,  I  gave 
up  in  despair,  and  went  home  again,  fully  resolved  that 
even  the  prospect  of  starvation  should  not  tempt  me  to 
go  out  again  until  the  weather  moderated  and  the  storm 
ceased. 

And  thus,  finally,  Saturday  came,  and  I  had  but  one 
solitary  subscriber  to  report.  If  I  felt  ashamed  and  mor- 
tified at  sending  in  my  report  of  the  week  before,  what 
must  have  been  my  feelings  now,  that  the  amount  of  this 
week's  sales  was  but  half  as  large  ?     But  there  was  no 


272 

help  for  it.  The  report  must  be  sent,  and  the  apparent 
failure  must  be  explained  as  best  I  was  able. 

But  there  was  a  still  more  serious  consideration  than 
the  smallness  of  my  report  to  the  general  agent.  My 
weekly  board-bill  was  due  to-day,  and  where  was  the 
money  to  come  from  to  pay  it  ?  And  not  only  this  week, 
but  others  would  come,  and  even  if  my  indebtedness  on 
this  account  were  now  paid,  what  provision  could  be  made 
for  the  future?  Such  horrid  weather  as  we  had  been 
having  fo^  the  last  two  weeks  would  most  effectually  keep 
me  from  earning  any  money,  but  it  would  not  prevent  my 
weekly  bills  from  becoming  due,  nor  would  it  keep  my 
landlady  from  demanding  payment  or  sending  me  adrift, 
if  I  failed  to  comply  with  her  very  just  demands. 

This,  dear  reader,  was  the  gloomy  day  referred  to  in 
my  opening  chapter.  This  was  the  day  upon  which,  for 
the  second  time,  I  pawned  my  watch — not  my  watch,  but 
Gussie's  watch — a  precious  treasure,  and  which  nothing 
but  death,  or  the  demand  of  him  from  whom  I  first  re- 
ceived it,  shall  ever  take  from  me.  I  hardly  knew  how 
to  part  with  it  a  second  time,  so  soon  after  redeeming  it ; 
but  I  could  not  starve,  and  I  am  sure,  if  Gussie  should 
read  these  lines,  he  will  not  blame  me  for  thus  tempora- 
rily parting  with  it,  to  avoid  that  or  a  worse  fate.  Be 
assured  that  nothing  shall  induce  me  to  part  with  it  per- 
manently so  long  as  life  and  reason  are  spared  to  me. 

But  just  now  my  situation  was  gloomy  in  the  extreme. 
Six  dollars  must  be  paid  weekly  for  my  board  or  I  must 
leave  my  present  place  of  abode,  and  then  what  could  be 
done  ?  I  had  only  made  one  dollar  this  week,  and  even 
that  I  had  not  received ;  for  I  could  not  order  a  solitary 
copy  of  the  work,  and  must  wait  until  the  weather  would 
enable  me  to  resume  my  labors  again.     What  could  I  do 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  273 

but  pawn  the  watch  for  means  to  provide  me  with  food 
and  shelter? 

I  wanted  something  to  do  to  pass  away  the  time,  and 
keep  my  mind  from  dwelling  upon  the  horrors  of  my  sit- 
uation. I  felt  like  a  guilty  thing  after  my  return  from  the 
pawn-broker's,  and  something  must  be  done.  I  went  to 
my  room,  in  pursuance  of  the  resolution  mentioned  in  my 
first  chapter,  and  wrote  for  some  time ;  but  this  only  in- 
creased the  gloom  resting  upon  my  spirits,  and  I  finally 
threw  down  the  pen,  and  going  to  my  landlady^  asked  for 
work.  Even  if  it  paid  me  nothing,  it  would  at  least  keep 
my  mind  employed,  and  pass  away  the  time.  She  had  a 
quilt  on  the  frames,  and  told  me  I  might  work  on  that  if 
I  liked,  and  she  would  pay  me  whatever  it  was  worth. 
Accordingly  I  went  to  work,  and  worked  all  the  evening 
for  her,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  diverting  my  mind. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  it  cleared  off  once  more. 
The  clouds  dispersed,  the  sun  came  out  beautifully,  and 
all  nature  appeared  in  gay  and  smiling  colors  once  more. 
My  spirits  rose ;  for  I  felt  sure  that  on  the  morrow  I 
I  would  be  able  to  resume  my  labors,  and  regain  all  and 
more  than  I  had  lost. 

And  this  time  my  predictions  of  fair  weather  were  veri- 
fied. The  sun  rose  clear  and  beautiful  on  Monday  morn- 
ing, and  so  impatient  was  I  to  be  at  my  work,  that  it  was 
with  difficulty  I  waited  for  my  breakfast.  When  that  very 
necessary  affair  was  disposed  of,  I  at  once  set  out  in  search 
of  subscribers.  Heretofore  I  had  paid  my  respects  to 
stores,  offices  and  the  like,  but  to  day  my  eyes  and  foot- 
steps were  turned  in  another  direction,  and  private  resi- 
dences were  my  objective  points.  And  my  efforts  were 
crowned  with  very  fair  success,  for  when  I  turned  my  foot- 
steps homeward,  at  nightfall,  six  names  had  been  added  to 
18 


274 

my  list.  What  mattered  it  that  I  was  weary  and  well-nigh 
worn  out  with  my  incessant  labors,  or  that  food  had  not 
passed  my  lips  since  the  matin  meal — I  had  earned  six 
dollars,  enough  to  pay  my  board  for  a  week,  and  my  heart 
was  light.  What  matter  if  Gussie's  watch  wag  in  pawn 
for  fifteen  dollars — I  had  a  month  in  which  to  redeem  it, 
and  that  day  had  brought  me  nearly  half  enough  for  that 
purpose,  and  I  was  happy.  I  was  in  a  good  humor  with 
myself  and  all  the  world,  and  began  to  think  this  earth 
was  not  such  a  bad  place  to  inhabit,  after  all,  and  that  the 
people  of  Peoria  were  not  really  the  outcasts  of  creation. 
Nay,  I  even  abated  a  very  considerable  amount  of  my  hos- 
tility to  the  weather-god,  and  felt  very  much  inclined 
to  forgive  him  for  the  unfavorable  character  of  the  last 
two  weeks.     In  fine,  I  was  very  much  mollified. 

The  next  day  I  went  to  that  part  of  the  city  called 
"The  Bluffs  " — I  know  not  why,  unless  because  the  people 
there  are  more  inclined  to  "  bluff "  a  stranger  than  else- 
where —  and  took,  by  the  hardest  of  work,  only  three 
names.  On  my  way  home,  however,  I  succeeded  in  getting 
a  poor  woman,  whom  I  had  asked  for  a  drink  of  water,  to 
put  her  name  down,  subject,  however,  to  the  consent  of 
her  husband.  And,  I  may  add,  in  this  connection,  that 
that  consent  was  given,  and  the  book  taken  with  a  hearty 
good-will,  which  was  far  more  agreeable  than  that  very 
often  displayed  by  those  who  were  rich  in  money,  but  poor 
in  spirit,  as  compared  with  this  loving  and  hard-working 
couple. 

I  had,  therefore,  obtained  four  subscribers  this  day, 
which  gave  me  ground  to  hope  for  better  success  on  the 
morrow.  Ten  subscribers  this  week  thus  far.  Even  if 
unsuccessful,  or  if  the  weather  should  again  become  bad, 
BO  as  to  prevent  me  from  working  at  all,  my  report  of 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  275 

this  week  would  compare  very  favorably  with  those  of 
the  last  two  weeks,  and  my  faith  in  future  success  was  so 
strong  as  to  induce  me  that  night  to  write  for  twenty 
copies  more. 

My  faith  in  the  future  was  not  disappointed  by  the 
result,  for  on  the  next  day  no  less  than  eleven  names  were 
added  to  my  list  of  subscribers.  This  was  something  like 
old  times,  and  made  me  feel  quite  rich  once  more.  I  even 
began  to  consider  in  what  bank  it  was  best  for  me  to  de- 
posit my  earnings,  so  as  to  be  sure  that  they  would  be 
safe,  and  I  very  seriously  contemplated  going  to  my  old 
friend  "Crusty,"  and  asking  his  advice  upon  this  impor- 
tant subject,  or  at  least  getting  him  to  insure  my  fortune 
against  loss  by  thieves,  burglars,  fire  or  flood,  but  finally 
concluded  to  wait  until  I  had  paid  my  debts,  or  at  least 
received  my  money  for  the  books  I  had  sold  to  those 
eleven  persons.  The  next  day  I  only  got  one  subscriber ; 
but  never  mind  —  that  was  one  dollar,  and  I  would  not 
starve  if  I  only  made  that  amount  each  day. 

To  illustrate  the  fact  that  book  agents  have  all  kinds 
of  customers  to  deal  with — a  fact  that  has  already  to  some 
extent  appeared  in  these  pages — let  me  here  give  the  rea- 
der an  account  of  my  interview,  on  the  next  day,  with  a 

dentist  by  the  name  of  G ,  one  of  the  first  dentists  in 

the  city.  I  am  sorry  that  I  am  unable  at  this  time  to  give 
his  name  in  full,  for  it  is  meet  and  proper  that  his  name 
and  business  should  be  advertised  in  full  in  these  pages 
without  cost  to  him.     And  thus  was  the  interview. 

"  Dr.  G.,  I  have  a  book  to  which  I  would  like  to  call 
your  attention  for  a  few  moments.  I  would  like  to  add 
your  name  to  my  list  of  subscribers,  and  think  you  would 
be  pleased  with  it."  , 

"  I  do  n't  care  about  looking  at  it.     Do  n't  know  as  I 


276  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

want  to  buy  any  books.  They  generally  cost  more  than 
they  are  worth." 

"I  called  at  your  house  and  showed  this  to  your  wife. 
She  was  yery  anxious  to  get  it,  but  did  not  like  to  put  her 
name  down  without  your  consent,  and  referred  me  to  you." 

"  Oh !  yes,  of  course.  My  wife  wants  everything  she 
sees  any  other  woman  have.  Get  two  women  together 
and  they  will  ruin  any  man  with  their  silly  notions." 

"  Will  you  look  at  my  book,  sir  ?" 

"Yes,  I  can  look  at  it,  but  can't  buy  it." 

"  Ca  n't  you  spend  two  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents  to 
please  your  wife  ?     She  wants  the  book." 

"  Of  course,  she  wants  it,  but  she  do  n't  need  it.  Be- 
side money  is  very  scarce.  Do  n't  you  want  your  teeth 
fixed  ?     If  so,  may  be  we  can  come  to  terms  in  that  way." 

"Yes,  sir;  I  have  two  teeth  I  want  extracted,  and  if 
you  will  subscribe  for  my  book,  I  will  have  it  done.  If 
not,  I  will  go  elsewhere." 

"  Let  me  take  out  three  teeth — enough  to  pay  for  the 
book,  and  I  will  subscribe." 

"  No,  sir.     Two  is  all  I  wish  to  lose." 

"Well,  sit  down." 

He  took  my  subscription  book,  put  down  his  name,  and 
then  proceeded  to  the  extraction  of  my  teeth,  thus  com- 
bining a  fine  stroke  of  business  with  the  pleasure  of  mak- 
ing his  wife  a  present  of  the  value  of  two  dollars  and 
three-quarters !  If  that  man  does  not  succeed  in  accu- 
mulating a  fortune,  it  will  be  only  because  meanness  is 
not  the  surest  road  to  wealth.  I  wanted  the  teeth  ex- 
tracted, but  the  idea  of  making  that  a  condition  of  pre- 
senting his  wife  with  a  book  which  she  wanted,  and  which 
she  would  have  subscribed  for,  but  for  her  wholesome  fear 
of  her  lord  and  master !     Perhaps  the  reader  will  think  I 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  277 

would  be  in  a  hurry  about  delivering  a  book  sold  under 
such  circumstances,  but  really  I  was  not.  When  I  had 
collected  the  money  to  redeem  Gussie's  watch,  I  rested 
very  easy  about  it,  and  it  was  not  until  I  had  finished  my 
canvassing  in  Peoria,  and  was  ready  to  leave,  that  Mr. 
Dentist  got  his  book.  In  taking  leave  of  this  subject,  I 
beg  to  advise  my  fellow  book  agents  to  give  Mr.  G.  a  wide 
berth,  unless  they  are  ready  to  suffer  the  loss  of  teeth  for 
the  purpose  of  selling  their  publications.  After  leaving 
Mr.  G.  I  went  to  several  other  places,  and,  by  dint  of  hard 
and  constant  work,  succeeded  in  getting  eight  more  names 
that  day,  and  this,  too,  without  having  to  submit  to  any 
surgical  operation  of  any  kind.  Indeed,  in  all  my  expe- 
rience as  a  "  Book  Agent,"  Mr.  G.  is  the  only  man  whom 
I  ever  met  who  insisted  upon  paying  his  subscription  by 
eliminating  some  of  the  members  of  the  unfortunate  can- 
vasser. There  may  be  others  in  the  world,  but  it  is  ex- 
tremely doubtful,  and  he  should  be  preserved,  in  a  glass 
case  if  need  be,  as  a  sort  of  curiosity  for  the  edification 
and  amusement  of  the  rising  generation. 

The  next  day  a  hard  and  persistent  canvass,  from  "  early 
morn  to  dewy  eve,"  only  added  one  name  to  my  list. 
I  had  got  into  a  part  of  the  city  which  was  inhabited  by 
the  poorer  classes,  many  of  them  Germans,  just  from 
"Faderland,"  and  they  had  neither  the  means  nor  inclina- 
tion to  purchase  anything  in  the  way  of  English  litera- 
ture. I  was  not  really  surprised  or  disappointed  at  the 
result  of  my  labors  among  that  class,  for  but  little  could 
be  anticipated,  but  still  it  would  not  do  for  me  to  pass 
them  by.  I  was  bound  by  my  obligations  and  duties  as 
an  agent,  to  canvass  the  city  thoroughly,  and  this  I  would 
do  whether  I  obtained  subscribers  or  not.     And  if  I  did 


278 

this  and  failed  to  make  sales,  the  fault,  at  least,  would  not 
be  mine. 

On  Saturday  I  made  my  report  to  the  general  agent 
of  sales  of  thirty  copies  that  week.  I  felt  very  proud  of 
the  favorable  contrast  between  this  report  and  the  one  that 
had  preceded  it,  and  was  still  better  satisfied  when  Mr. 
Holland  wrote  me  saying  he  was  "  glad  to  learn  from  ac- 
count of  sales  that  the  flood  in  Peoria  had  decayed  and 
dried  up,  and  that  the  waters  were  failing  from  off  the 
ground." 

The  Sunday  following  was  a  lonely  day,  and  as  I  con- 
templated the  work  of  the  past  week  (don't  think  me, 
dear  reader,  irreverent  or  wicked  for  thinldng  of  these 
matters  on  the  Sabbath  day ;  my  mind  was  so  full  of  the 
subject,  and  it  was  so  necessary  to  my  existence  that  I 
could  not  help  it)  my  heart  welled  up  with  gratitude  to 
Him  by  whose  overruling  providence  the  storm  had  been 
stayed,  and  I  had  been  enabled  to  resume  my  toil  with 
some  prospect  of  success.  To-day  I  attended  church  for 
the  first  time  in  Peoria.  I  had  heretofore  been  so  down- 
hearted that  I  had  not  felt  like  going  to  church  or  any- 
where else,  but  to-day,  I,  in  part,  made  amends  for  lost 
time  heretofore.  I  went  to  the  Baptist  church  in  the 
morning ;  to  Sabbath-school  in  the  afternoon,  and  to  church 
again  in  the  evening;  heard  good  sermons,  and  passed  the 
day  very  pleasantly,  feeling  better  at  night,  both  mentally 
and  physically,  than  I  had  for  some  time. 

The  next  week  the  weather  was  fair,  and  I  worked  all 
the  week,  with  varying  success.  On  Monday,  I  took  six 
subscribers;  on  Tuesday,  the  utmost  number  possible  to  ob- 
tain by  hard  work  was  five;  Wednesday  my  success  was 
good,  and  ten  names  were  added  to  my  list  before  night- 
fall compelled  me  to  desist;  Thursday,  only  three  names 


THE   LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  279 

rewarded  my  exertions,  and  Friday  I  was  compelled  to  con- 
tent myself  with  barely  one.  And  thus  it  went.  I  could 
compare  my  work  to  nothing  in  the  world  but  fishing.  On 
one  day  business  would  be  good,  and  almost  every  one  I 
asked  would  subscribe;  on  another  day,  under  precisely 
the  same  circumstances,  and,  so  far  as  it  was  possible  for 
me  to  judge,  with  just  as  fair  prospects  of  success,  the  ut- 
most that  could  be  done  would  be  to  take  one,  two,  or  three 
names.  Every  lover  of  piscatorial  sports  will  recognize 
the  similarity  in  this  to  his  own  experience.  Nevertheless, 
my  report  this  week  turned  out  to  be  very  respectable,  be- 
ing no  less  than  twenty-five  new  subscribers,  while  I  had 
delivered  thirty  copies  previously  taken. 

About  this  time  I  had  some  difficulty  with  the  agent  of 
the  express  company  relative  to  a  lot  of  books  shipped  to 
me  by  Mr.  Holland.  It  was  during  the  rainy  weather 
which  had  just  closed,  and  while  the  books  were  in  charge 
of  the  company,  they  had  been  exposed  to  the  rain,  and 
some  of  them  had  got  wet  and  were  very  much  damaged. 
I  found  that  five  of  them  were  so  much  damaged  as  to  be 
almost  entirely  unsaleable  at  any  price,  and  I  thought  the 
company  ought  to  take  them  and  pay  for  them.  Indeed, 
I  was  advised  by  my  friends  that  they  could  be  compelled 
to  do  so;  but  the  agent  declined  to  make  any  compensa- 
tion, and  the  amount  involved  was  so  small  that  it  did  not 
seem  to  me  worth  while  to  make  much  fuss  about  it.  Still  it 
was  a  very  heavy  loss  to  me  in  the  present  condition  of  my 
finances ;  but  I  finally  took  them,  and  let  my  subscribers 
have  them  at  cost,  thus  losing  my  profit  of  one  dollar  on 
each  book,  and  getting  nothing  for  that  day's  work.  Up 
to  this  time  the  express  agent  had  treated  me  very  kindly 
and  gentlemanly;  but  in  this  instance  I  regarded  his  con- 
duct as  anything  else,  and  did  not  hesitate  to  tell  him  so. 


280  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

He  had  not  scrupled  to  take  advantage  of  the  unfortunate 
circumstances  in  which  I,  a  woman  without  money  and 
without  friends,  was  placed,  to  repudiate  an  obligation 
which  law  and  justice  alike  imposed  on  him,  and  had  thus 
displayed  a  want  of  principle  which,  though  perhaps  not 
unusual  with  some  men,  should  still  be  but  a  poor  recom- 
mendation for  the  position  he  then  occupied.  It  shall  not 
be  my  fault  if  the  world  does  not  rate  him  at  his  true  value. 

Having  by  this  time  about  completed  my  canvass  of  the 
city  of  Peoria,  and  believing  that  my  difficulty  with  the  ex- 
press agent  would  render  further  transactions  with  that 
office  unpleasant,  I  decided  to  change  my  locality,  and 
canvass  the  little  town  of  Elmwood,  in  the  same  county — 
leaving,  for  the  present  at  least,  so  much  of  the  city  as  I 
had  not  visited. 

I  must  not  omit,  however,  to  bear  testimony,  in  this  place, 
to  the  kindness  and  generosity  .which  were  displayed  to- 
ward me  by  a  Mr.  Tripp,  residing  in  the  city,  before  my 
departure.  He  was  a  merchant,  and  was  one  of  my  sub- 
scribers. I  had  a  lot  of  books — thirty  in  number — to  be 
delivered  in  order  to  supply  all  my  customers.  After  the 
difficulty  to  which  allusion  has  been  made,  the  agent,  con- 
trary to  his  usual  practice,  and  to  vent  his  spite  on  me,  re- 
fused to  allow  me  to  open  the  package  in  the  office,  and  I 
had  not  money  enough  to  pay  the  charges  on  them  and 
take  them  away.  In  this  emergency  Mr.  Tripp  gener- 
ously came  to  my  assistance,  advanced  the  money  to  pay 
the  charges,  and  allowed  me  to  take  them  away  as  I  was 
able — paying  him  for  them  as  I  could  raise  the  money. 
Some  of  my  subscribers  were  not  ready  to  take  their  books, 
and  when  I  went  away  there  were  twelve  copies  still  undeliv- 
ered, which  Mr.  Tripp  consented  to  retain  and  wait  for  his 
pay  until  the  subscribers  were  ready  to  receive  them.   How 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  281 

different  was  his  conduct  from  that  of  the  express  agent ! 
For  this  kindness  to  a  comparative  stranger,  he  has  her 
heartfelt  thanks,  and  will  assuredly  some  day  receive  his 
reward. 


282  ANNIE   NELLES;   OR, 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

I  ARRIVED  at  Elmwood  about  two  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, and  immediately  set  about  finding  a  suitable  board- 
ing place.  In  this  I  was  extremely  fortunate.  The  place 
selected  for  my  head-quarters  there,  was  the  family  of  a 

Mr. ,  a  kind  and  considerate  Christian  gentleman, 

while  his  wife  was  one  of  the  most  pleasant  and  agreeable 
ladies  it  was  ever  my  fortune  to  meet.  They  were  kind 
and  consistent  followers  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus, 
and  their  treatment  of  me  during  my  stay  in  their  midst, 
partook  more  of  the  character  of  that  which  might  be 
meted  out  to  a  dearly  loved  sister,  than  of  that  which 
keepers  of  boarding-houses  are  wont  to  display  toward 
their  guests.  There  will  ever  be  a  green  spot  in  my  mem- 
ory, to  record  the  kindly  deeds  of  this  family  toward  the 
lonely  wanderer,  who  had  come  to  them  with  no  recom- 
mendations, save  those  which  appeal  to  the  heart  of 
every  true  Christian.  "  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took 
me  in." 

Indeed  my  heart  holds  grateful  recollections  of  every 
one  in  Elmwood,  with  whom  it  was  my  fortune  to  be 
brought  in  contact  during  my  stay  in  that  place.  Never 
has  it  been  my  lot  to  be  treated  with  such  uniform  cour- 
tesy and  kindness  by  every  one.  Surely  if  good  works, 
and  kind  deeds  toward  the  lone  and  unfortunate,  are  a 
passport  to  future  happiness,  the  people  of  that  loveliest 
of  rural  villages  are  on  the  high  road  to  eternal  bliss. 
The  reader  must  pardon  my  enthusiasm  upon  this  subject, 
for  my  situation  there  was  so  different  from  what  had 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  283 

been  my  usual  experience,  that  it  seems  almost  impossible 
to  express  my  satisfaction  at  the  contrast. 

I  have  alluded  particularly  to  the  kindness  of  Mr. 

and  his  wife.  The  reader  must  pardon  me  for  referring 
particularly  to  another  instance  of  the  unparalleled  gen- 
erosity with  which  the  denizens  of  that  place  were  wont 
to  treat  me,  a  perfect  stranger.  Among  my  earliest  ac- 
quaintances was  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  J.  Hopkins. 
He  was  a  young  man  of  the  purest  integrity  and  upright- 
ness of  character,  and  his  heart  overflowed  with  kindness 
to  all  with  whom  he  was  brought  in  contact.  He  had, 
too,  one  of  those  frank,  noble  natures  which,  suspecting  no 
ill,  regard  every  one  as  worthy  of  the  same  trust  which 
his  fine,  manly  countenance  inspired  in  every  one  who 
met  him.  Altogether  he  was  one  of  those  men  in  whom, 
at  first  sight,  you  feel  that  it  is  safe  to  confide,  and  who 
never  betray  a  trust  reposed  in  them.  He  had  been  a 
soldier,  and  had  lost  an  arm  in  the  service  of  his  country, 
but  was  now  engaged  in  business  which  his  goodness  and 
universal  popularity  naturally  rendered  profitable. 

Situated  as  I  was,  it  was  but  natural  that  I  should  con- 
fide to  him  my  situation  and  pecuniary  embarrassments: 
with  a  nobleness  and  generosity  which  may  sometimes  be 
equaled  but  never  excelled,  he  came  to  my  relief,  and 
freely  tendered  me  any  assistance  I  might  desire.  And 
during  all  the  time  that  I  remained  in  Elmwood,  the  same 
generosity  was  continued.  Was  money  needed  to  take  a 
package  of  books  from  the  express  office ;  his  purse  was 
at  my  command,  and  without  security  of  any  kind,  he  al- 
lowed me  to  take  my  books  and  pay  for  them  as  I  chose. 
Nay,  more,  any  business  which  I  was  at  a  loss  how  to 
transact,  I  had  but  to  submit  to  him,  and  it  was  done  in 
the  most  correct  and  expeditious  manner,  and  that,  too. 


284  ANNIE   NELLES  ;    OR, 

without  fee  or  reward  beyond  my  poor  thanks  and  my 
most  fervent  gratitude.  He  took  my  pawn-ticket,  and  re- 
deemed my  watch  from  the  grasp  of  the  old  skinflint, 
in  Peoria,  with  whom  I  had  pawned  it — ^I  of  course  fur- 
nishing the  money  to  do  so — and  when  I  offered  to  com- 
pensate him  for  his  trouble,  he  positively  refused  to  receive 
anything.  I  owed  him  frequently,  during  my  stay  in  Elm- 
wood,  as  high  as  thirty,  forty  or  fifty  dollars  at  a  time,  and 
he  never  asked  me  for  a  cent  of  money  at  any  time,  but 
just  left  the  time  of  payment  to  my  own  convenience.  A 
brother  could  not  have  done  more  for  me,  and  his  kind- 
ness will  never  be  forgotten. 

It  took  me  but  a  few  days  to  canvass  Elmwood,  when 
I  finally  got  at  work.  There  was  a  weekly  paper  pub- 
lished in  the  place,  in  which  I  had  advertised  the  work 
upon  my  first  arrival,  and  everybody  was  ready  to  sub- 
scribe or  refuse  as  soon  as  the  work  was  submitted  for 
their  inspection.  I  have  very  often  in  small  places  de- 
rived great  benefit  in  my  canvassing,  by  advertising  my 
publications  in  the  local  papers.  The  same  results  do  not 
follow  advertisements  in  large  cities,  but  in  a  small  village 
like  Elmwood,  destitute  of  anything  which  tends  to  excite 
the  public  pulse,  the  local  journals  are  read  with  an  avid- 
ity which  the  residents  of  the  city  never  know,  and  when 
anything  is  once  advertised,  it  attracts  the  attention  of 
the  entire  community ;  it  is  canvassed  in  every  possible 
aspect,  and  people  have  their  minds  made  up  one  way  or 
the  other  as  to  its  merits.  And  when  the  agent  finally 
appears,  every  one  is  ready  to  give  a  decided  answer.  I 
did  very  well  in  Elmwood,  having  succeeded  in  selling  no  less 
than  forty  copies  of  the  work  in  a  little  town  of  not  more, 
I  should  think,  than  one  thousand  inhabitants.  And  this, 
as  before  stated,  was  accomplished  in  but  a  very  few  days. 


Mm, 


WAITING  FOR  THE  WAGOK 


THE    LIFE   OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  285 

There  are  several  little  country  towns,  as  Southport, 
Pittsville,  etc,  lying  about  equal  distances  from  Elmwood, 
and  off  of  any  railroad  or  other  public  conveyance.  Having 
finished  my  work  in  the  latter  place,  I  decided  to  go  and 
canvass  these  little  towns ;  but  the  puzzling  question  was, 
how  to  get  there,  and  how  to  transfer  my  books  and  bag- 
gage there.  After  considerable  cogitation  upon  this  sub- 
ject, I  finally  concluded  not  to  move  my  headquarters 
from  Elmwood ;  but,  to  retain  my  present  boarding-place, 
and,  taking  a  few  books,  go  by  some  chance  conveyance, 
which  might  present  itself,  to  one  of  the  little  towns  be- 
fore mentioned.  A  single  instance  will  illustrate  my 
mode  of  doing  this  business. 

Having,  for  several  days,  tried  in  vain  to  obtain  a  con- 
veyance from  Elmwood  to  Southport,  I  finally,  on  one 
bright  Monday  morning,  took  a  large  market-basket  —  it 
would  hold  just  fifteen  "Tried  and  Trues,"  and  was  so 
heavy  that  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  lift  it — ^filled  it  with 
books,  and  going  out  a  little  way  on  the  Southport  road, 
sat  down  under  a  tree  to  "wait  for  the  wagon."  I  sat 
there  for  several  hours  before  any  conveyance  came  along 
going  my  way,  though  quite  a  number  passed  me  going  the 
other  way.  But,  reflecting  that  the  stream  would  by  and 
by  be  flowing  the  other  way,  I  maintained  my  seat  with 
what  patience  I  could.  Noon  came,  and  no  team  had 
made  its  appearance  going  my  way.  I  took  out  a  lunch 
I  had  brought  with  me,  ate  it,  and  still  waited,  hoping 
that  my  patience  would  finally  be  rewarded  by  the  sight 
of  an  approaching  wagon,  and  at  last  one  made  its  appear- 
ance. As  it  drew  near,  I  approached  the  roadside  and 
signed  the  driver  to  stop,  which  he  did. 

"I  give  you  good  day,  sir.  Are  you  going  to  South- 
port  ?  " 


286  ANNIE   NELLES;   OR, 

"  I  am,  madam.    Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?  " 

'^  I  want  to  get  there.     Can  I  ride  with  you  ?  " 

"I  have  a  tolerably  good  load;  but  if  you  do  not  mind 
riding  on  a  load  of  shelled  corn,  guess  I  can  accommo- 
date you." 

"  Oh !  sir,  I  can  ride  anywhere.  If  you  will  take  me 
and  my  basket  of  butter,  I  shall  be  ever  so  much  obliged." 

"  Very  well,  madam ;  I  can  take  you.  Just  bring  your 
basket  here.  Why!  you  can  hardly  lift  it.  How  many 
pounds  of  butter  have  you  there  ?  " 

"  I  do  n't  know  just  how  many  pounds  I  have." 

By  this  time  I  was  in  the  wagon ;  he  started  up  his 
team ;  and,  for  some  little  time,  we  jogged  on  in  Bilence. 
At  length  he  spoke  — 

"  Your  butter  is  for  sale,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  How  much  do  you  ask  for  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  put  up  in  rolls,  of  the  value  of  two  dollars  and 
seventy-five  cents  each." 

"  Two  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents  1  Why,  they  must 
be  very  large  and  heavy  rolls." 

"  No,  sir ;  not  very  large.    Would  you  like  to  see  one  ?  " 

"Why,  yes;  if  you  please." 

"  Here,  sir,"  said  I,  raising  the  cover  of  the  basket,  and 
producing  a  copy  of  "Tried  and  True,"  "is  one  of  my 
rolls  of  butter." 

"Why,  that  is  a  book.  Bless  my  heart,  madam,  is 
that  basket  full  of  books  ?  " 

"  It  is,  sir.  You  can  look  for  yourself,"  said  I,  raising 
the  cover  of  the  basket  as  I  spoke,  so  that  he  could  have 
a  good  view  of  its  contents.  "How  do  you  like  the  looks 
of  them?" 

''  But  you  said  you  had  butter  in  the  basket." 


THE    LIFE    OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  287 

"  Well,  I  sell  these  books,  and,  when  I  want  any  butter, 
I  buy  it  with  the  proceeds  of  the  books.  It  is  the  only 
way  I  have  to  get  any  butter,  or  bread  either,  for  that  mat- 
ter; and,  hence,  there  is  nothing  wrong  in  my  saying 
they  are  my  butter.  They  are ;  and  my  bread  and  cloth- 
ing, too." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  you  make  out  a  very  good 
case." 

"I  think  so,  sir.  Won't  you  help  me  to  make  out  a 
still  better  one  by  buying  one  of  my  rolls  of  butter  ?  " 

"I  can't  see  what  it  is." 

"Well,  let  me  take  the  lines  and  drive  the  team  a  little 
way  while  you  examine  it.  I  think  you  will  buy  one  if 
you  only  look  at  it." 

He  laid  down  his  whip,  took  the  book,  and  handed  the 
lines  to  me.  He  was  soon  absorbed  in  the  book,  and  I 
drove  on,  while  he  took  no  note  of  anything  at  all.  I  could 
have  driven  the  team  to  Chicago,  and  he  would  never  have 
known  the  difference,  so  interested  was  he  in  the  story  he 
held  in  his  hand.  I  finally  grew  impatient  lest  he  should 
finish  the  book  before  we  reached  our  destination,  and, 
touching  him  on  the  shoulder  with  the  whip,  said: 

"  Had  you  not  better  buy  the  book,  and  read  it  when  you 
get  home  ?     We  shall  soon  be  in  Southport." 

He  started,  looked  a  little  ashamed  of  having  so  forgot- 
ten himself,  but  paid  me  for  the  book  without  a  word.  I 
thanked  him,  and  resigned  the  lines  to  him,  and  in  a  short 
time  we  arrived  at  Southport,  where  I  bid  him  "good  day," 
while  he  passed  on  through  the  town.  He  lived  at  Prince- 
ville,  a  few  miles  farther  on,  and  was  then  on  his  way  home. 

This,  dear  reader,  was  the  manner  in  which  I  reached 
the  village  of  Southport,  and  this  may  serve  as  a  sample 
of  the  way  in  which  I  went  about  to  canvass  the  several 


288  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

other  little  towns  which  are  scattered  throughout  Peoria 
county.  Of  course,  the  reader  will  not  understand  that  I 
always  rode  on  a  load  of  corn,  or  that  I  was  always  so  for- 
tunate as  to  sell  a  copy  of  my  book  to  my  impromptu 
coachman.  But  I  visited  all  these  little  towns  simply  by 
watching  by  the  roadside  for  a  chance  to  ride.  And  I  say, 
to  the  credit  of  the  farmers  of  that  county,  that  I  never 
found  one,  no  matter  what  the  circumstances,  who  was 
unwilling  to  transport  me  and  my  "  basket  of  butter,"  or 
who  treated  me  in  any  but  the  most  respectful  and  cour- 
teous manner. 

It  was  about  five  o'clock  in  the  evening  when  I  dis- 
missed my  carriage  in  the  streets  of  Southport.  I  had 
never  been  there  before,  but  had  by  this  time  become  pretty 
well  accustomed  to  being  among  strangers,  and  it  gave  me 
no  uneasiness.  There  was  no  hotel  in  the  place,  and  I 
went  to  a  private  house,  made  known  my  name  and  busi- 
ness to  them,  and  engaged  lodgings  for  the  night.  I  suc- 
ceeded in  interesting  them  in  the  merits  of  "Tried  and 
True,"  and  sold  them  a  copy  of  the  work. 

The  next  morning  I  went  to  work  with  a  will,  and  can- 
vassed the  entire  town,  selling  all  the  books  I  had  with  me 
but  five  copies.  With  these  I  started  on  foot  for  Elmwood, 
intending  to  sell  them  out  at  the  farm-houses  along  the 
road.  I  w^as  several  days  in  getting  back,  for  I  stopped  at 
every  house  along  the  road,  staying  each  night  just  w^here 
nightfall  overtook  me,  and  finding  but  few  persons  who 
were  able  or  willing  to  buy.  However,  when  I  finally 
reached  Elmwood,  about  two  o'clock  on  Saturday  after- 
noon, I  had  not  a  single  book  left,  and  had,  beside,  taken 
orders  for  three  more,  to  be  left  in  Mr.  Hopkins'  hands. 
He  again  displayed  his  generosity  by  advancing  me  the 
money  upon  them,  and  taking  his  chances  of  getting  it 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  289 

back  from  my  subscribers  —  and  I  am  very  happy  to  say 
they  all  paid  him  up  in  a  very  short  time.  Had  they  not 
done  so,  I  should  most  certainly  have  refunded  him  the 
money  before  leaving  that  section  of  the  country. 

In  this  way  I  worked  until  I  had  canvassed  the  entire 
county,  and  the  time  came  for  me  to  leave  Elmwood  and 
its  vicinity,  perhaps  forever.  How  I  hated  to  leave !  I 
had  been  so  happy  there,  and  had  so  many  good  friends, 
that  I  almost  dreaded  to  leave  them  and  go  among  entire 
strangers  again.  I  had  seen  more  real  happiness  there 
than  I  had  at  any  time  or  place  since  the  sad  discovery,  in 
Cincinnati,  which  led  to  the  separation  of  Mason  and  my- 
self.    Would  I  ever  see  as  much  happiness  again  ? 

In  one  particular  I  had  deceived  my  Elmwood  friends ; 
but,  under  the  circumstances  in  which  I  was  placed,  I  can 
not  think  they  will  blame  me  very  sorely.  I  had  not  im- 
parted to  any  one  any  portion  of  my  past  history,  and  had 
held  myself  out  to  them  as  a  widow.  It  was  not  altogether 
right,  but  no  one  was  injured  thereby,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
to  be  almost  necessary  to  my  self-preservation  that  my  past 
life  should  not  be  known  to  them.  If  any  of  them  should, 
by  chance,  read  this  story,  they  will  understand  my  rea- 
sons for  the  deception ;  and,  while  once  more  thanking 
them,  one  and  all,  for  their  uniform  kindness  to  me,  I  most 
humbly  beg  their  pardon  for  the  trifling  deception  I  prac- 
ticed upon  them.  Had  I  known  them  as  well,  when  I  went 
among  them,  as  I  now  do,  I  should  not  have  hesitated  to 
tell  them  just  how  I  was  situated ;  but  I  did  not,  and  when 
I  came  to  know  them  well,  it  was  then  too  late  to  correct 
the  error:  at  least  I  feared  that  it  was,  and  dreaded  the 
loss  of  position  which  I  feared  would  follow  an  exposition 
of  my  real  situation.  Once  more  I  beg  the  pardon  of  each 
and  every  one  for  the  deception. 
19 


290  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

During  this  time  I  had  not  heard  one  word  from  or  of 
my  truant  husband.  I  knew  not  whether  he  was  living 
or  dead,  or,  if  living,  what  he  was  doing,  and  it  is  not  to 
be  supposed  that  he  was  any  better  informed  as  to  my 
movements.  At  times  this  gave  me  very  little  trouble, 
for  though  I  had  loved  him  with  all  the  power  of  affection, 
had  regarded  him  as  almost  more  than  mortal,  and  had,  in 
my  fancy,  clothed  him  with  attributes  of  nobleness  which 
belong  to  none  but  the  most  perfect  of  God's  creatures, 
still  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  forget  that  he  had  insulted 
and  abused  me ;  had  put  upon  me  the  foulest  wrong  which 
can  be  offered  to  a  faithful  and  trusting  wife ;  had  violated 
every  vow  which  he  assumed  in  the  presence  of  God  and 
man ;  had  betrayed  the  confidence  and  trust  I  had  reposed  in 
him,  and,  to  crown  his  infamy,  had  driven  me  from  the  home 
and  protection  he  had  sworn  to  give  me,  to  support  myself 
or  perish  among  strangers,  while  he  gave  no  care  or  thought 
to  the  fate  of  her  whom  he  had  endowed  with  the  sacred 
name  of  wife.  When  I  reflected  upon  these  things;  when 
faithful  memory  presented  the  picture  of  the  wrongs  I  had 
endured  at  his  hands — oh !  then  was  my  once  ardent  love 
for  him  turned  to  hate,  and  while  praying  heaven's  choicest 
vengeance  upon  him,  I  had  wished  that  his  hated  name 
might  never  again  be  sounded  in  my  ears.  But  there 
were  other  times,  when  the  memory  of  my  former  love 
for  that  base  and  unworthy  man  would  sweep,  like  a  tor- 
rent, over  my  soul ;  my  heart  would  soften  toward  him, 
and  I  would  willingly  have  forgiven  all  my  wrongs  for 
the  poor  boon  of  one  kindly  word  of  remembrance  from 
him ;  one  single  token  to  show  that  he  cherished  a  pleas- 
ing memory  of  the  past,  now  gone  forever.  But  it  never 
came. 

Oh !  there  is  no  anguish  like  that  endured  by  a  faithful, 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  291 

true-hearted  woman  who  has  loved  with  her  whole  soul ; 
who  has  reveled  in  all  the  bright  dreams  of  mutual  and 
sanctified  affection,  and  has  been  rudely  and  suddenly- 
awakened  from  her  bright  dream  of  happiness,  only  to 
learn  that  she  has  been  betrayed,  deceived,  and  imposed 
upon ;  that  all  the  priceless  treasures  of  her  soul  have 
been  given  to  an  unworthy  object,  and  have  been  remorse- 
lessly thrown  aside,  and  trampled  into  the  dust  of  the 
earth,  by  him  whom  she  believed  to  be  true  and  faithful  as 
the  needle  to  the  pole.  Happy  then  the  heart  that  can  break, 
and  thus  avoid  the  storm ;  the  fierce  conflict  of  passion, 
which,  unless  tempered  by  the  kindness  and  mercy  of  Him 
whose  handiwork  we  all  are,  will  shatter  to  atoms  the  frail 
fabric  upon  which  its  violence  is  spent,  and  leave  it,  at  the 
last,  a  shapeless  and  unsightly  wreck.  Happy  the  spirit 
which  has  power  to  transform  its  former  love  into  hate, 
and  avoid  the  dread  conflict  by  thus  filling  the  soul  with 
an  inhabitant  which,  though  unpleasant  and  detestable,  is 
still  able  to  expel  forever  the  love  which  there  formerly 
reigned  supreme. 

Upon  bidding  adieu  to  my  kind  friends  in  Elmwood,  I 
shipped  all  my  baggage  to  Chillicothe,  accompanying  it 
myself  as  far  as  Rockhill,  where  I  stopped  off  to  canvass 
for  a  few  days.  I  only  did  tolerably  well  there,  selling 
not  more  than  a  dozen  or  fifteen  in  all,  and  not  liking  the 
place,  and  feeling  but  little  encouraged  by  the  prospect 
there,  I  shook  off  the  dust  from  my  feet  against  that  town 
and  returned  to  Peoria,  where  several  little  matters  of  bus- 
iness claimed  my  attention.  The  reader  must  know  that, 
up  to  this  time,  I  had  not  delivered  any  book  to  the  man 
who  pulls  teeth  to  pay  his  subscription — my  old  friend 
Mr.  Dr.  Dentist  G.  —  and  this  must  be  done ;  beside, 
I  was  still  a  little  in  debt  to  Mr.  Tripp,  and  wanted  to  dis- 


292  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

charge  the  pecuniary  obligation  to  him  under  which  I  was 
laboring,  for  my  other  obligations  it  was  impossible  that  I 
ever  should  discharge. 

Accordingly,  I  arranged  these  little  matters  in  Peoria, 
and  then  took  the  cars  for  Chillicothe,  where  I  arrived  in 
due  time,  and,  for  a  short  season,  worked  with  very  fair 
success.  I  sold  quite  a  number  of  books  there,  and  busi- 
ness finally  becoming  dull,  went  in  a  wagon  to  Princeville. 
But  my  experience  there  was  such  as  to  induce  me  to 
warn  all  my  fellow  book  agents,  if  any  of  them  should, 
perchance,  attempt  to  canvass  that  section  of  country,  to 
avoid  Princeville  as  they  would  the  deserts  of  Arabia. 
The  people  there  seem  to  have  a  most  holy  horror  of  all 
kinds  of  literature,  and  to  regard  traveling  book  agents  as, 
in  some  sort,  enemies  of  the  country,  aliens  and  outlaws. 
I  labored  three  days,  assiduously,  to  break  through  the 
crust  of  exclusiveness  which  surrounded  them,  but  with 
such  poor  success  that  I  only  sold  one  book,  and  that 
through  the  aid  of  my  old  friend,  the  wagoner,  upon  whose 
load  of  corn  I  rode  from  Elmwood  to  Southport.  It  is 
barely  possible  that  the  seed  thus  sown  may  have  fallen 
upon  good  ground,  and  that  some  other  agent  could  do  bet- 
ter there  than  I  did,  but  it  is  extremely  doubtful,  and  I 
think  the  language  of  Holy  Writ  might,  with  safety,  be  ap- 
plied to  Princeville,  changing  only  names  to  suit  the  case. 
"Princeville  is  joined  to  her  idols,  let  her  alone." 

From  Princeville  I  started  in  a  wagon  for  Lawn  Ridge. 
Observing  that  the  road  was  good,  and  the  country  well 
settled,  by  what  appeared  to  be  a  class  of  well-to-do  farm- 
ers, I  took  five  copies,  and  directing  the  wagoner  what 
disposition  to  make  of  the  balance  of  my  books,  upon  his 
arrival  at  Lawn  Ridge,  walked  down  a  lane  to  a  comfort- 
able-looking farm-house,  which  stood  but  a  short  distance 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  293 

off  the  main  road.  An  old  woman  was  sitting  on  the 
porch  knitting,  while  a  large  and  fierce-looking  dog  came 
growling  toward  me,  as  I  opened  the  gate.  The  old  wo- 
man made  no  effort  to  check  him,  and  I  was  really  afraid 
of  him. 

"  Good  morning,  madam.     Will  your  dog  bite  me  ?'* 

"  Oh !  no.  He  never  bites  nobody.  He  does  a  mighty 
sight  of  growlin',  but  he  haint  never  bit  anybody  yit. 
Come  in." 

"  Madam,  I  have  some  books  to  sell,  and  am  very  much 
in  need  of  money.  Won't  you  take  pity  on  me,  and  buy 
one?" 

"  Where  you  goin',  miss  ?"  , 

^'I  am  going  to  Lawn  Ridge." 

"Why,  you  do  n't  say.  Are  you  goin'  to  walk  to  Lawn 
Ridge,  and  carry  all  them  there  books  ?" 

"  I  am,  indeed,  unless  I  sell  them  before  I  get  there." 

"  Well,  really.     Why,  where  did  you  come  from  ?" 

"I  came  from  Princeville." 

"Du  tell.  Well,  now,  mebby  my  boy  Tom  will  buy  one 
on  'em,  jest  to  help  you  along.  Tom !  come  here.  Here's 
a  book  would  jest  suit  you — come  and  buy  one  of  this  'ere 
woman.  She 's  come  from  Princeville,  and  is  goin'  to  walk 
all  the  way  to  Lawn  Ridge  and  carry  'em,  if  she  do  n't 
sell  'em." 

Her  "  boy  Tom,"  a  great,  awkward  lout,  of  twenty-five 
or  six,  who  was  working  in  a  garden  hard  by,  came  up, 
and  expressed  almost  as  much  sympathy  for  my  hard  lot 
as  his  mother,  and,  out  of  pure  charity,  bought  a  book. 
I  thanked  them  for  their  kindness,  but  have  very  grave 
doubts  whether  that  book  has  ever  been  read  to  this  day. 
However,  I  had  accomplished  my  mission,  and,  with  a 
light  heart,  and  my  load  lightened  by  one  copy  of  "  Tried 


294  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

and  True,"  I  returned  to  the  road,  and  again  bent  my  foot- 
steps in  the  direction  of  Lawn  Ridge.  After  walking  a 
mile,  I  came  to  another  house,  where  I  called,  and,  expos- 
ing my  wares,  tried  to  make  a  sale,  but  here  the  same  ap- 
peals to  their  charity  were  in  vain.  They  expressed  sym- 
pathy for  my  hard  lot,  but  were  unable  to  raise  the  money. 
Thanking  them  for  their  sympathy  and  good  will,  although 
I  derived  no  pecuniary  benefit  from  its  expression,  I  rested 
a  short  time,  and  then  pursued  my  journey. 

The  next  house  was  half  a  mile  distant,  and  it  was  now 
almost  noon.  When  I  arrived  there  I  was  weary  and 
hungry,  and  asked  the  lady  of  the  house  for  something  to 
eatt  She  gave  me  a  bowl  of  milk  and  some  fresh  bread 
and  butter :  saying  they  had  been  to  dinner,  and  that  was 
all  she  had  at  hand.  I  sat  down  to  my  frugal  meal,  and, 
while  appeasing  the  cravings  of  my  appetite,  asked  them 
to  look  at  my  books.  The  entire  family  gathered  around, 
and  were  very  much  pleased  with  the  appearance  of  the 
work, 

"What  is  the  price  of  your  book  ?  "  said  the  lady  at  last. 

"I  am  selling  them  at  two  dollars  and  seventy-five 
cents.  I  think  the  book  is  really  worth  three  dollars ;  but 
I  only  ask  two  and  three-quarters.     Will  you  take  one  ?  " 

"I  think  we  will,"  said  she,  producing  a  purse  and 
counting  out  the  exact  sum. 

"Thank  you,  madam,"  said  I,  rising  as  I  spoke;  "and 
now  what  shall  I  pay  you  for  my  dinner ;  for  it  is  time  for 
me  to  gQ." 

"  Nothing  at  all.  I  charge  nothing  for  such  a  dinner  as 
that." 

"  But,  madam,  it  was  worth  a  good  deal  to  me." 

"  Well,  if  it  was  worth  anything  to  you,  you  are  en- 
tirely welcome  to  it.     It  is  worth  nothing  to  me." 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  295 

I  thanked  her  heartily  for  her  kindness,  and  resumed 
my  journey.  There  are  bright  spots  in  this  gloomy  world 
of  ours;  and  this  kind  lady,  thus  bestowing  her  simple 
refreshment,  without  reward,  upon  an  entire  stranger,  whom 
she  never  expected  to  see  again,  demonstrated  that  she 
inhabited  one  of  those  bright  spots,  and  that  the  true  reli- 
gion of  Jesus  Christ  abode  with  her  there. 

At  the  next  house  I  met  one  of  those  over-zealous  peo- 
ple who  attach  all  importance  to  the  name,  while  they 
entirely  lose  sight  of  the  substance.  An  account  of  my 
interview  with  the  lady  of  the  house  will  illustrate  this  fact. 

"  How  do  you  do,  madam  ?  Can  I  rest  a  short  time  ? 
I  am  walking  to  Lawn  Ridge,  and  am  very  tired." 

"Certainly;  come  in." 

"Madam,  I  am  a  book  agent,  and  would  like  to  sell 
you  a  book.     Will  you  look  at  them  ?  " 

"  We  have  plenty  of  books ;  but  I  will  look  at  yours." 

"  This  is  a  new  work,  madam — has  been  published  but 
a  few  weeks,  and  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  I  ever 
read.     I  charge  nothing  for  looking  at  them." 

"  Oh !  this  is  a  novel.  I  never  read  novels.  I  do  not 
think  it  is  right  to  waste  one's  time  in  that  way." 

"You  don't!  Madam,  what  papers  are  those  lying  on 
the  table  ?  " 

"  That  ?     Why,  that  is  the  New  York  Ledger." 

"  Do  you  take  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  and  have  for  a  good  many  years." 

"Who  reads  it — you  or  your  family?" 

"  Oh !  we  all  read  it.  We  could  not  get  along  without 
that." 

"  And,  yet,  you  never  read  novels ! " 

"Never." 
,    "  The  New  York  Ledger,  I  suppose,  is  not  a  series  of 


296  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

novels  from  one  year's  end  to  another.  It  is  only  a  news- 
paper. But  is  it  any  better  to  read  a  long  tale  of  fiction 
in  the  Ledger  than  it  would  be  to  read  the  same  story 
done  up  in  book  form.  But,  as  you  never  read  novels,  it 
is  not  worth  while  to  waste  time  in  trying  to  sell  you  one. 
Good  morning,  madam." 

And,  gathering  my  shawl  majestically  about  my  person, 
I  stalked  from  her  presence,  indignant  at  her  hypocrisy, 
or  pitying  her  ignorance.  I  was  not  certain  which  feel- 
ing predominated. 

After  passing  and  calling  at  one  or  two  other  houses, 
without  effecting  any  sales,  I  arrived  at  a  comfortable- 
looking  place ;  and,  as  it  was  nearly  night,  and  I  was  very 
weary,  I  decided  to  stay  all  night,  if  they  would  keep  me. 
To  my  application  for  lodgings,  the  answer  was: 

"  We  never  turn  any  body  out  of  doors,  and  you  can 
stay." 

I  rested  very  well  that  night,  and  the  next  morning 
prevailed  on  my  landlady  to  take  a  book,  and  pay  me  two 
dollars  in  money,  allowing  my  bill  for  supper,  bed  and 
breakfast,  to  settle  the  balance  of  the  price.  I  finally 
reached  Lawn  Ridge,  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon ; 
having  sold  all  the  books  with  which  I  started.  My  long 
W'alk  had  made  me  very  weary  and  footsore,  but  still  I 
had  done  very  well,  and  felt  content. 

Upon  arriving  at  Lawn  Ridge,  my  first  care  was  to  se- 
cure a  good  stopping-place  for  the  night,  after  which  I 
went  to  the  store  of  Mr.  Parsons,  where  my  wagoner  had 
informed  me  he  would  leave  my  package  of  books.  I 
found  them  all  rights  and  Mr.  Parsons  very  much  of  a 
gentleman.  He  gave  me  the  books,  and  before  I  left  the 
store  I  succeeded  in  selling  him  one.  This  favorable  be- 
ginning, I  thought^  augured  well  for  my  success  in  Lawn 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  297 

Ridge,  and  I  was  not  disappointed,  for,  though  the  place 
contained  only  about  twenty  or  twenty-five  houses,  I  sold 
some  five  or  six  copies  there,  and  was  ready  by  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon  to  take  my  seat  in  a  wagon  which  I  fortu- 
nately found  going  to  Chillicothe.  It  was  now  absolutely 
necessary  for  me  to  return  there  to  order  more  books,  my 
present  stock  having  become  almost  exhausted. 

There  was  some  delay  about  getting  my  books,  and  I 
had  to  wait  several  days  for  them.  I  very  much  hated 
to  lose  the  time,  for  it  was  pleasant  weather,  and  it 
was  very  uncertain  what  it  would  be  when  I  was  ready  to 
go  to  work  again,  and,  beside,  I  could  not  afford  to  remain 
idle.  Finally,  however,  my  books  came  to  hand,  and, 
without  the  delay  of  a  single  day,  I  set  out  for  the  country, 
having  decided  to  try  and  introduce  a  little  light  among 
the  benighted  farmers  of  that  region.  Candor,  however, 
compels  me  to  admit  that  the  dissemination  of  knowledge 
was  not  the  only,  nor,  indeed,  the  principal,  motive  which 
induced  me  to  take  a  basket  of  heavy  books  on  my  arm, 
and  start  on  a  pedestrian  excursion  for  the  rural  districts. 
No ;  anxious  as  I  am  to  do  all  the  good  I  can  in  this  world, 
it  is  very  doubtful  if  this  alone  would  have  induced  me  to 
adopt  the  character  of  a  missionary  among  that  people. 
Nay,  more :  I  will  confess  that  the  desire  to  replenish  my 
purse  had  more  to  do  with  my  resolution  than  the  desire 
of  being  serviceable  to  my  fellow  men.  But  so  long  as 
the  motive  was  not  in  itself  evil,  I  am  confident  my  read- 
ers will  not  withhold  from  me  the  credit  of  the  good 
which  my  itinerancy  in  that  region  may  have  done. 

One  good  effect  resulting  from  my  present  trip,  was,  the 
discovery  of  some  cases  of  destitution,  at  which  humanity 
must  shudder,  and  Christianity  weep ;  and  which  demand 
the  immediate  attention  of  the  overseers  of  the  poor  for 


298  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

the  county  of  Peoria — cases,  too,  which  would  never  have 
been  known,  but  for  my  journey,  because,  from  outward 
indications,  no  one  would  have  supposed  them  to  exist. 
Allow  me  to  illustrate  this  by  recounting  a  single  incident. 

On  my  first  day  out,  I  called  at  the  house  of  a  Mr. , 

but,  no,  I  will  not  publish  his  name  to  the  world,  but  will 
furnish  it  to  the  overseers  of  the  poor  upon  their  address- 
ing me  at  Indianapolis,  Indiana,  and  sending  a  stamp  for 
return  postage  —  so  let  the  name  pass  for  the  present. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  the  poor  wretch  lived  in  a  large  two- 
story  frame  house,  while  the  yards,  filled  with  stock,  and 
barns  apparently  bursting  with  plenty,  seemed  to  indicate 
the  possession  of  many  of  the  comforts  of  life,  and  even 
some  of  the  luxuries,  by  the  proprietor — so  deceptive  are 
appearances  often  found  to  be  in  this  vain  world  of  ours. 

As  soon  as  my  soul  fell  upon  this  supposed  abode  of 
plenty,  I  chuckled  with  glee,  and  my  heart  was  glad. 
"Now,"  said  I  to  myself,  "here  will  I  sell  large  numbers, 
to-wit :  one  copy  of  '  Tried  and  True,'  and  my  purse  shall 
groan  with  the  additional  burden  of  two  dollars  and  sev- 
enty-five cents,  current  money  of  the  United  States,  while 
the  load  upon  my  arm  shall  be  proportionately  lightened. 
Alas !  how  vain  are  all  human  calculations  —  how  decep- 
tive all  merely  mortal  appearances.  I  would  not  for  a 
moment  have  supposed  that  the  place  before  me  was  the 
abode  of  poverty  and  misery,  sufficient  to  have  drawn  tears 
from  the  eyes  of  a  potato.    But  I  was  soon  undeceived. 

As  I  opened  the  gate,  a  large  and  fierce-looking  dog 
came  forward,  with  much  noise  and  many  demonstrations 
of  anger  at  my  intrusion.  Now,  if  I  have  any  pet  horror, 
it  is  big  dogs,  especially  when  they  act  as  this  one  did ; 
and  for  a  short  time  I  stood  trembling,  and  actually  fear- 
ing I  should  be  rent  limb  from  limb,  after  the  very  unpleas- 


THE   LIFE    OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  299 

ant  manner  in  which  the  rulers  of  the  world  were  wont  to 
treat  the  early  Christians.  At  length,  however,  the  mas- 
ter of  the  canine  brute  before  me  made  his  appearance. 

"  Good  morning,  sir." 

"  Good  morning,  madam." 

"  I  am  afraid  of  your  dog.     Will  he  hurt  me  ?" 

"  0  no,  madam ;  he  won't  hurt  you.  Go  away,  Beaver. 
Come  in,  madam.     Go  away,  Beaver — do  you  hear  me  ?" 

"  I  am  so  much  afraid  of  dogs,  especially  such  large, 
savage  ones  as  this,  that  I  hardly  know  what  to  do." 

"  He  is  not  savage.  He  makes  a  great  deal  of  noise,  but 
never  bites,  except  at  night." 

By  this  time  we  had  entered  the  house,  where  sat  a  lady 
sewing.  The  house  was  furnished  in  a  very  comfortable 
style,  and  even  yet  I  had  no  idea  of  the  wretched  poverty 
which  existed  among  its  inmates,  and  which  was  soon  to 
be  revealed  to  my  astonished  vision.  I  resumed  the  con- 
versation : 

"I  am  a  book  agent,  and  have  here,  ^ Tried  and  True, 
a  new  work,  just  published,  and  would  like  to  sell  you  a 
copy.  Madam,  I  think  you  will  like  the  book.  It  is  so 
very  interesting  that  I  sat  up  all  one  night  to  read  it.  Will 
you  look  at  it  ?"  and  I  handed  her  a  copy. 

She  hesitated,  but  finally  took  the  book,  looking,  in  a 
sort  of  scared,  startled  way,  at  her  husband.   He  spoke  : 

"  Well,  really,  madam,  I  should  like  to  buy  the  book,  but 
really  times  are  too  hard,  and  I  am  too  poor  to  buy  books 
now." 

"  What !  with  all  that  stock  in  the  yard ;  with  this  fine 
house,  furnished  in  the  best  of  style ;  those  barns,  doubt- 
less filled  with  grain — you  are  too  poor  to  buy  a  book,  the 
price  of  which  is  only  two  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents  1" 

"Yes,  madam,  I  am  really  too  poor.     Two  dollars  and 


300  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

seventy-five  cents,  did  you  say  ?     It  is  a  large  sum,  and 
can  not  be  picked  up  every  day." 

"  Do  you  own  this  farm  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  And  is  it  paid  for  ?  and  this  stock,  those  cattle  and 
horses — are  they  yours,  and  paid  for  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  I  own  it  all,  and  do  not  owe  any  man  a 
cent  in  the  world." 

"  And  yet  you  are  not  able  to  pay  two  dollars  and  sev- 
enty-five cents  for  a  most  interesting  book  ?" 

''  Indeed,  I  am  not." 

"  Have  you  any  children  ?" 

"Yes;  we  have  four — two  sons  and  two  daughters;  and 
I  tell  you,  it  costs  a  heap  of  money  to  feed  and  clothe 
them." 

"Well,  sir,  if  you  have  four  children  dependent  upon 
you  for  support,  and,  owning  all  the  property  I  see  around 
me,  you  are  still  unable  to  invest  two  dollars  and  three- 
quarters  in  food  for  their  minds,  I  pity  them  and  you.  I 
would  not  be  as  mean  and  miserly  as  that,  for  the  wealth 
of  Croesus.  Had  you  given  any  other  reason  than  poverty 
for  your  refusal  to  subscribe,  I  should  have  accepted  it, 
and  gone  my  way  without  a  word ;  but  the  idea  of  lack  of 
ability,  on  your  part,  is  too  ridiculous.  Rather  say  you  are 
too  miserly  to  afford  your  children  that  which  they  need  to 
fit  them  to  discharge  their  duties  in  life  with  due  propriety 
and  credit  to  themselves.     Good  day,  sir." 

With  this  exposition  of  my  feelings  upon  this  subject,  I 
took  my  book  from  the  lady  and  left  the  house.  I  earn- 
estly commend  those  four  children  to  the  attention  of  the 
commissioners  of  Peoria  county;  for,  if  allowed  to  grow 
up  under  the  kind  and  fostering  care  (?)  of  their  unnatural 
and  miserly  father,  they  are  sure  to  become  fit  candidates 


THE   UFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT,  301 

for  the  gallows  or  the  State  prison,  and  it  may  cost  the 
county  more  to  care  for  them  in  that  way,  than  to  see  that 
they  are  properly  cared  for  and  educated  in  their  youth. 
"An  ounce  of  preventive  is  worth  a  pound  of  cure." 

But  such  instances  of  meanness,  I  am  happy  to  state, 
are,  so  far  as  my  experience  as  a  book  agent  goes,  rare  in 
the  United  States.  I  have  canvassed  in  nearly  all  of  the 
north-western  States,  and  have  generally  found  the  people 
more  ready  to  part  ^ith  their  money  for  the  purpose  of  pro- 
curing the  aliment  necessary  to  the  culture  and  develop- 
ment of  their  mental  faculties,  than  for  any  other  object. 
And  it  is  this  peculiarity  of  the  American  people  which 
gives  them  their  high  standing,  as  an  intelligent  and  en- 
lightened nation,  among  the  powers  of  the  earth,  and  ren- 
ders the  overthrow  of  liberty  among  us  a  moral  impossi- 
bility. It  is  no  unusual  thing  to  find  the  house  of  a  poor 
man,  who  toils  from  day  to  day  for  his  daily  bread,  fur- 
nished with  a  well-selected  little  library,  in  which  works 
of  history  and  the  sciences  are  familiarly  intermingled  with 
those  lighter  works,  which,  while  they  serve  to  amuse  and 
occupy  a  passing  hour,  are  still  not  without  their  lessons 
of  wisdom  and  instruction  to  the  inquiring  mind.  What, 
though  such  a  man  wear  patched  clothes,  or  be  even 
clad  in  tatters ;  what,  though  his  wife's  best  dress  be  but  a 
"  calico,"  or  a  simple  muslin ;  what,  though  his  furniture 
be  plain,  and  his  table  be  furnished  with  no  silverware  or 
costly  viands:  still  can  I  respect  and  admire  such  a  man, 
for  I  know  that,  in  him,  goodness  and  honor  abound,  and 
that  the  liberty  bequeathed  to  us  by  our  forefathers,  has 
there  a  sturdy  and  uncompromising  defense.  But,  once 
more  to  my  labors. 

I  canvassed  all  this  week  (or  rather  what  was  left  of  it, 
for  I  did  not  start  out  until  Wednesday),  sold  out  all  my 


302  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

books,  and  finally  found  myself,  on  Saturday  night,  the 
inmate  of  a  farm-house,  about  eight  miles  from  Chillicothe, 
which  place,  the  reader  will  please  to  remember,  was  now 
my  headquarters.  I  had  now  canvassed,  pretty  thor- 
oughly, all  my  county,  except  one  little  town,  by  the  name 
of  Loudon,  and  its  vicinity ;  and  I  was  so  anxious  to  finish 
my  work  that  I  decided  to  go  to  Chillicothe  the  next  day. 
Sunday  morning  came.  It  was  a  bright,  pleasant  day; 
and  there  being  no  conveyance  at  hand,  and  learning  that 
the  roads  were  good  all  the  way,  I  set  out,  in  the  early 
morning,  to  walk  there.  It  was  quite  an  undertaking  for 
me,  considering  that  it  was  not  my  intention  to  stop  by 
the  way;  but  it  must  be  remembered,  that  I  had  been 
practicing  pedestrianism  considerably  of  late,  and  I  boldly 
essayed  the  march.  I  reached  my  boarding-house  a  little 
after  noon,  pretty  thoroughly  worn  out,  and  entirely  willing 
to  rest  the  next  day;  thus  gaining  nothing  whatever  by 
my  Sunday's  tramp. 

On  Tuesday,  however,  feeling  sufficiently  refreshed,  I 
set  out  for  Loudon,  and,  going  vigorously  to  work,  can- 
vassed the  place  in  a  short  time,  selling  ten  copies  of  the 
work  there.  Loudon  I  found  to  be  a  very  pleasant  little 
place ;  and  the  result  of  my  labors  there  will  demonstrate, 
to  the  satisfaction  of  every  one,  that  it  was  inhabited  by 
a  class  of  people  very  different  from  those  I  had  found  at 
Princeville  and  one  or  two  other  places  in  the  county. 
But  it  mattered  very  little  to  me  now.  I  had  finished  my 
work  among  them,  and  was  about  to  leave  their  midst, 
while  it  was  extremely  uncertain  whether  I  would  ever 
meet  any  of  them  again. 

At  that  time  I  had  but  little  idea  of  ever  publishing 
this  sketch  of  my  life — much  less  that  I  should,  in  per- 
son, canvass  Peoria  county  for  subscribers,  which  I  shall, 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  303 

in  all  probability  do,  if  Heaven  spares  my  life,  and  nothing 
occurs  to  prevent  my  doing  so. 

Upon  leaving  Loudon  I  returned  at  once  to  Chillicothe, 
from  which  place  I  intended  to  take  my  final  departure  to 
Chicago,  there  to  perfect  arrangements  for  more  extensive 
work  in  my  new  line  of  duty ;  for  I  had  no  idea  of  giving 
up  the  business  of  selling  books  by  subscription.  It  was 
reasonably  profitable,  and  would  afford  me  a  comfortable 
living ;  I  liked  the  sort  of  excitement  and  change  attend- 
ing it ;  and,  beside,  it  kept  my  mind  constantly  employed, 
to  the  almost  utter  exclusion  of  contemplation  of  the 
hideous  past.  For  these  reasons,  it  was  my  intention  to 
still  pursue  it;  and,  in  order  to  render  that  pursuit  even 
more  successful,  it  was  necessary  that  I  should  repair  to 
Chicago  to  make  some  new  and  more  extended  arrange- 
ments. 


304 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

It  had  become  absolutely  necessary  for  me  to  visit  Chi- 
cago in  order  to  provide  means  for  my  future  support.  I 
was  now  out  of  work — had  finished  the  task  assigned  me — 
and,  without  work  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  live.  And 
work  I  could  not  get  except  by  going  there.  There  was 
one  consideration  which  rendered  my  contemplated  visit 
somewhat  distasteful  to  me.  Frank  C.  Nelles  still  lived 
there,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  meet  him  under  any  circum- 
stances. Of  course,  it  was  not  absolutely  certain  that  we 
would  meet — my  stay  there  would  be  brief — but  still  we 
might,  and  a  meeting  would  be  in  the  last  degree  unpleas- 
ant to  me.  But  I  could  not  sit  still  and  starve,  and  go  I 
must. 

Before  going,  however,  I  must  get  myself  a  few  things 
which  were  necessary  to  render  me  presentable  in  the  city. 
I  needed  a  new  bonnet,  to  replace  the  one  I  had  worn  last 
winter ;  my  gloves  were  worn  out ;  my  shoes,  though  very 
suitable  for  canvassing,  on  foot,  throughout  the  county  of 
Peoria,  were  hardly  the  things  to  wear  upon  the  streets  of 
Chicago ;  in  fact,  I  needed  a  full  supply  of  those  little  ar- 
ticles which  ladies  buy  when  they  go  "  shopping."  But, 
dear  me,  I  would  rather  canvass  half  a  day,  on  foot,  in  the 
country,  than  to  go  out  "  shopping  "  for  a  single  half  hour. 
How  ladies  can  admire  these  shopping  expeditions  is  more 
than  I  can  conceive.  There  is  nothing  in  life  that  seems 
more  annoying  to  me  than  to  start  out  and  go  from  place 
to  place,  looking  for  this  article  or  that,  and,  finally,  going 
home  after  having  bought,  perhaps,  a  dollar's  worth  of 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  305 

goods.  But  there  are  women  who  really  enjoy  this  sort 
of  thing ;  who  will  go  from  place  to  place  for  an  entire 
day,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  looking  at  goods,  and  with  no 
intention  of  buying  anything,  and  who  finally  return  home, 
after  having  annoyed,  as  much  as  was  in  their  power,  every 
shop-keeper  and  clerk  on  their  route,  without  having 
bought  a  single  thing.  I  said  they  were  women — pardon 
me,  they  are  not — they  are  mere  puppets  of  fashion,  the 
extent  of  whose  ambition  is  only  to  appear  in  the  latest 
fashion,  and  to  serve  as  a  sort  of  walking  advertisement 
for  certain  fashionable  milliners  and  dress-makers.  But 
for  them  the  latter  class  would  starve. 

But,  however  distasteful  it  might  be,  my  shopping  had 
to  be  done,  and  so  I  set  about  it  energetically.  I  was  now 
out  of  debt,  and  had  fifty-five  dollars  in  money,  honestly 
and  fairly  earned  by  my  own  toil,  and  there  was  no  reason 
why  I  should  go  to  Chicago  looking  as  shabbily  as  I  now 
did.  I  therefore  went  out  and  bought  what  I  needed,  in- 
cluding a  black  bonnet ;  for,  as  I  was  passing  for  a  widow, 
it  was  but  proper  for  me  to  assume,  to  some  extent,  the 
appearance  of  one.  Beside,  if  black  is  a  symbol  of  sor- 
row, surely  my  past  life  had  been  such  as  to  entitle  me  to 
wear  black  as  long  as  I  should  live,  even  though  I  should 
attain  to  the  age  of  Methuselah. 

When  I  had  completed  my  purchases,  and  fitted  myself 
out  to  my  entire  satisfaction,  I  took  the  cars  for  Chicago, 
arriving  there  without  any  incidents  worthy  of  note.  I 
went  at  once  to  the  Sherman  House,  and  registered  my- 
self as  Mrs.  S.  A.  Nelles,  of  Chicago.  I  knew  they  pub- 
lished daily  lists  of  their  arrivals,  and  thought  Frank 
would  thus  learn  that  I  was  in  the  city;  for  though  I  should 
take  no  pains  to  find  him,  still  I  was  weak  enough  to  in- 
dulge a  little  hope,  in  spite  of  my  resolution  not  to  see 
20 


306 

him,  or  have  any  communication  with  him,  that  when  he 
found  that  I  was  in  Chicago,  he  would  come  to  see  me. 
What  might  have  been  the  result  if  he  had  done  so,  is 
more  than  can  now  be  told,  for  at  times  I  still  loved  him, 
in  spite  of  myself,  but  he  never  came,  although  I  heard 
of  him  before  leaving  the  city,  as  will  presently  appear. 
I  now  rejoice  that  he  did  not  come. 

After  getting  settled  at  the  Sherman  House,  I  went  to 
call  on  Mr.  Holland,  at  38  Lombard  Block.  He  was  very 
glad  to  se^  me,  and  complimented  me  very  highly  on  my 
success,  saying  my  sales  had  exceeded  those  of  any  other 
of  his  agents  during  the  same  time,  and  that  he  hoped  I 
would  take  another  county.  I  told  him  I  wished  to  go  to 
Indiana,  and  would  like  to  have  two  points  there,  Indian- 
apolis and  Michigan  City.  The  reader  is  well  aware  of 
the  reasons  which  induced  me  to  seek  the  former  place ; 
and  I  had  good,  and,  to  myself,  satisfactory  reasons  for 
wanting  to  go  to  the  latter,  though  it  is  not  necessary  to 
tell  what  they  were. 

Mr.  Holland  replied  that  he  could  give  me  Michigan 
City,  but  that  Indianapolis  was  not  in  his  district,  it  was 
under  the  control  of  the  Columbus,  Ohio,  general  agency, 
but  he  thought  he  could  get  it  for  me,  and  would  try  and 
do  so.  I  thanked  him  for  his  kindness,  and,  having  no 
further  business  to  transact  with  him,  went  at  once  to 
make  arrangements  for  my  departure  to  my  new  field  of 
labor. 

I  went  back  to  the  Sherman  House,  eat  my  dinner  and 
paid  for  it,  and  then  went  to  call  on  Mr.  Kennedy,  the 
publisher  of  "  The  Home  Circle,"  and  largely  interested  in 
the  sale  of  "  The  Memorial  of  President  Lincoln,"  and  ap- 
plied to  him  for  the  agency  of  both  those  publications. 
Mr.  Holland  had  given  me  some  very  flattering  testimon- 


THE    LIFE    OF    A   BOOK    AGENT.  307 

ials,  and  I  had  no  difficulty  in  forming  an  engagement 
with  Mr.  Kennedy,  not  only  to  canvass  Michigan  Cit}^, 
but  also  Indianapolis.  I  then  went  back  to  the  Sherman 
House,  ordered  my  baggage  to  the  depot,  and  checked  my 
trunks  to  Indianapolis,  intending  to  stop  but  a  short  time 
in  Michigan  City.  It  was  still  some  hours  until  the  train 
would  start,  and  I  again  went  up  in  town  and  bought  a 
dozen  photographs  of  distinguished  Generals,  for  which 
I  paid  the  sum  of  one  dollar.  I  had  to  purchase  copies  of 
"  The  Home  Circle,"  and  of  "  The  Memorial,"  and  I  now 
had  but  two  dollars  and  some  few  cents  left  in  my  purse. 

As  I  was  walking  down  State  street,  on  my  way  to  the 
depot,  a  gentleman  bowed  to  me  from  a  street  car  which 
was  passing,  and  stopping  the  car,  got  out  and  came  to- 
ward me.  At  first  I  did  not  recognize  him,  but  when  he 
came  up  and  oiBfered  me  his  hand  I  knew  him.  It  was 
Robert  Nelles,  a  brother  of  my  husband.  He  told  me 
Frank  was  somewhere  in  the  city,  and  was  doing  much 
better  than  he  had  formerly  done.  I  told  him  he  might 
tell  him  when  he  saw  him  that  I  was  living  in  Indiana, 
and  was  now  on  my  way  home ;  that  I  was  doing  well,  and 
asked  no  help  from  him,  and  that  I  had  called  on  him  the 
last  time  for  assistance.  He  asked  me  when  I  was  going 
to  leave  the  city ;  and  I  told  him  I  should  go  on  the  first 
train  over  the  Michigan  Central  Road.  Would  he  come 
to  the  depot  ?  I  would  like  to  have  a  talk  with  him.  He 
asked  me  what  time  the  cars  left.  I  told  him  about  seven 
o'clock ;  and  he  said  he  would  be  there  before  that  time. 

We  then  parted,  and  I  began  to  reflect  upon  the  prob- 
able results  of  the  proposed  interview,  and  decided  that 
it  had  better  not  take  place.  I  was  afraid  he  would  bring 
Frank  with  him,  and  that  they  would  suspect  my  motive 
in  removing  to  Indiana,  and  would  take  steps  to  prevent 


308  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

the  accomplishment  of  my  purpose.  And,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  was  afraid  to  meet  my  husband.  In  spite  of  all  his 
wrongs  I  still  loved  him,  and  I  was  afraid  my  treacherous 
heart,  in  case  he  made  any  overtures  to  me,  would  betray 
me  into  living  with  him  again,  which  I  had  fully  made  up 
my  mind  never  to  do.  Accordingly  I  changed  my  plans, 
and,  instead  of  waiting  until  seven  o'clock,  went  away  on  a 
freight  train  which  left  at  five.  If  Robert  Nelles  reads 
these  lines,  he  will  understand  why  he  did  not  find  me 
when  he  came  to  the  depot  that  evening,  if  he  came 
at  all. 

I  arrived  in  Michigan  City  with  but  fifteen  or  twenty 
cents  in  my  purse,  but  this  gave  me  very  little  trouble.  I 
had  been  in  just  as  bad  a  situation  as  this  before,  and  by 
putting  a  bold  face  on  the  matter,  and  going  to  work  with 
reasonable  energy,  had  succeeded  in  getting  through  with 
my  troubles ;  and  there  was  no  reason  why  I  should  not 
do  so  again. 

I  went  to  the  hotel,  and  freely  told  the  landlord  my  sit 
uation — ^how  I  had  come  there  to  canvass  the  place  for 
subscribers  for  "  Tried  and  True,"  and  "  The  Life  of  Mr. 
Lincoln ;"  that  I  also  had  some  photographs  for  sale,  and 
that  I  had  neither  money  nor  baggage,  having  sent  my 
baggage  to  Indianapolis,  whither  I  was  going  as  soon  as  I 
had  canvassed  that  place.  He  heard  me  through,  and  then 
asked  to  see  my  photographs.  I  showed  them  to  him,  and 
told  him  the  price  at  which  I  sold  them — twenty-five  cents 
each.  He  took  four  in  payment  of  my  bill  for  supper,  bed 
and  breakfast,  and  I  started  out  to  sell  the  balance,  which 
I  did  in  a  very  few  minutes,  and  could  have  sold  three 
times  as  many  more  if  I  had  had  them.  The  people  of 
Michigan  City  are  very  patriotic,  and  photographs  of  suc- 
cessful leaders  of  the  Union  army  are  good  stock  to  sell 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  309 

among  them.     I  had  farther  evidence  of  this  patriotism 
the  next  day. 

The  next  day  I  went  to  work,  and,  by  vigorous  exertions, 
succeeded  in  obtaining  four  subscribers,  three  of  them  be- 
ing to  the  life  of  our  late  murdered  President,  and  only 
one  to  "  Tried  and  True."  I  returned  to  supper  at  night, 
almost  tired  out,  and  went  to  bed  very  early.  It  was  plain 
to  me  that  something  must  be  done  by  which  I  could  r'eal- 
ize  more  money  among  these  "  sand  hillers."  They  all 
admired  Mr,  Lincoln  and  would  buy  his  life  if  they  had 
time  to  read  it,  but  the  excitement  about  the  construction 
of  their  harbor  was  just  beginning  to  assume  the  form  of 
an  epidemic,  and  no  one  seemed  able  or  willing  to  spend 
any  time  in  reading,  or  even  talking  about  anything  but 
perches  of  stone.  Government  piers,  dredge-boats,  water 
lots,  and  eligible  corners.  One  man,  a  prominent  lawyer 
of  the  place,  upon  my  asking  him  to  buy  "The  Life  of  Lin- 
coln," somewhat  startled  me  by  replying,  "  If  the  title  is 
all  right  I  will  give  you  one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  a 
foot.  Did  you  say  it  fronted  on  the  creek  ?"  I  explained 
to  him  that  it  was  a  book  and  not  a  water  lot,  or  sand-hill, 
I  was  trying  to  sell,  whereat  he  became  disgusted,  and  re- 
fused to  hold  any  further  communication  with  me.  But, 
with  all  their  hurry,  they  would  take  time  to  buy  and  look 
at  photographs,  for  these  took  neither  time  nor  mental 
labor  to  comprehend,  and  left  them  free  to  pursue  their 
favorite  speculations.  It  was  plain,  then,  that  this  was 
my  best  line  of  investment.  Accordingly,  I  ordered  an- 
other lot  of  these  from  Chicago,  and  while  waiting  for 
them  to  come,  made  one  more  effort  to  break  through  the 
crust  of  speculation  which  seemed  to  enclose  the  entire 
people.  My  success  was  but  limited,  for  a  hard  day's 
work  only  added  two  names  to  my  list  of  subscribers  for 


310  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

the  life  of  the  President,  and  one  to  the  list  of  "Tried  and 
True."  But  when  my  photographs  came,  business  revived 
again*,  and  I  soon  disposed  of  all  I  had,  and  ordered  more. 

But  my  day  of  usefulness  in  this  place  was  evidently 
on  the  wane,  and  I  decided  to  go  to  La  Porte  and  try  my 
fortune  there  for  a  short  time.  I  could  not  canvass  there 
for  "  Tried  and  True,"  but  I  could  sell  photographs  and 
take  names  for  "  The  Memorial ; "  for,  although  Mr.  Ken- 
nedy had  only  appointed  me  agent  for  Indianapolis  and 
Michigan  City,  he  had  told  me,  verbally,  that  the  entire 
State  was  open,  and  that  I  might  sell  anywhere  I  could. 
But  at  La  Porte  I  fared  even  worse  than  at  Michigan  City, 
though  from  causes  altogether  different.  The  people  there 
were  not  so  madly  engaged  in  absurd  speculations  upon 
the  value  of  inaccessible  sand  mountains ;  but  their  supe- 
rior intelligence,  and  devotion  to  the  memory  of  our  mar- 
tyred President,  had  already  induced  them  to  invest  very 
liberally  in  remembrances  of  his  greatness ;  and,  in  nearly 
every  house  I  visited,  I  found  a  copy  of  some  one  of  the 
numerous  "Lives"  which  had  already  found  their  way 
into  print.  At  another  time,  and  with  another  work,  I 
found  La  Porte  to  be  a  most  excellent  place  for  book 
agents  who  pursue  their  labors  legitimately  and  honestly ; 
but  the  community  w^as  already  supplied  with  what  I  had 
now  to  sell,  and  of  course  my  labors  were  in  vain.  But, 
notwithstanding  my  poor  success,  I  liked  the  place  so 
much  that  I  almost  decided  to  settle  there  permanently  if 
I  ever  should  get  money  enough  ahead  to  buy  me  a  home 
anywhere.  Some  of  my  warmest  friends  reside  in  La 
Porte;  and,  whether  I  ever  settle  there  or  not,  I  shall 
always  retain  a  most  lively  recollection  of  that  most  beau- 
tiful city  of  northern  Indiana. 

Beturning  to  Michigan  City,  after  an  absence  of  three 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  311 

days,  I  was  fortunate  enougli  to  strike  a  vein  which,  by 
being  vigorously  worked,  yielded  some  very  substantial 
returns.  The  first  thing  I  did,  after  my  return,  was  to 
procure  and  sell  two  dozen  photographs,  which  I  did  in 
one  day.  The  next  day  I  spent  in  canvassing,  and  with 
a  degree  of  success  which  astonished  even  myself — taking 
no  less  than  eight  subscribers  for  "  The  Life  of  Lincoln," 
three  for  "Tried  and  True,"  and  five  for  "The  Home  Cir- 
cle." Such  success,  in  view  of  my  former  experience 
there,  was  truly  surprising,  and  inclined  me  to  think  more 
kindly  of  Michigan  City  and  its  inhabitants  than  had  been 
my  wont.  Nay;  I  even  forgave  the  lawyer  before-men- 
tioned for  his  absent-mindedness,  and  nearly  resolved  not 
to  put  him  in  my  book ;  but,  I  finally  compromised  the 
matter,  by  deciding  to  publish  the  incident,  but  keep  his 
name  to  myself;  hence,  none  of  my  friends  need  ask  me 
for  it.  I  hope  Mr. will  thank  me  for  even  this  de- 
gree of  forbearance. 

Having  about  finished  my  work  in  Michigan  City,  I  or- 
dered books  for  all  my  subscribers,  forwarded  Mr.  Kennedy 
the  names  of  subscribers  to  "The  Home  Circle,"  and, 
when  my  books  came,  proceeded  to  deliver  them  without 
delay,  having  done  which  I  took  an  account  of  funds  on 
hand,  and  found  I  had  enough  to  pay  my  fare  to  Indian- 
apolis and  to  pay  a  week's  board  after  I  got  there.  This 
was  eminently  satisfactory;  for  I  felt'  sure  that,  before 
the  week  would  expire,  I  could  do  enough  to  again  replen- 
ish my  purse. 

Accordingly,  I  settled  up  all  my  bills  in  Michigan  City, 
and,  embarking  upon  the  cars  of  that  horror  of  all  travel- 
ers, the  Louisville,  New  Albany,  and  Chicago  Railroad,  in 
due  time  arrived  at  the  capital  city  of  the  Hoosier  Slate. 
Upon  inquiry,  and  presenting  my  checks  at  the  baggage- 

f 


312  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

room  of  the  Union  Depot,  I  found  them  all  right,  they 
having  been  there,  the  baggage-man  said,  with  an  air  as 
if  he  were  relating  some  wonderful  circumstance,  a  full 
week,  if  not  more.  I  beg  to  remind  the  reader  that  my 
trunks  had  been  sent  direct  from  Chicago,  and  that  it  had 
not  taken  me  a  week  or  more  to  come  from  Michigan  City 
to  this  place.  I  make  this  explanation  in  order  that  no 
injustice  may  be  done  to  the  rapidity  with  which  the  Louis- 
ville, New  Albany,  and  Chicago  Railroad  transports  its 
passengers ;  and  I  take  great  pleasure  in  saying,  that  a 
person  might,  even  at  that  time,  go  by  this  route,  from 
Michigan  City  to  Indianapolis,  in  less  than  a  week ;  and, 
since  then,  the  management  and  speed  of  the  cars  upon 
that  road  have  been  materially  improved. 

My  first  care  was  to  look  for  a  suitable  boarding-place 
— the  man  with  whom  I  had  left  my  trunk,  when  there  be- 
fore, having  gone  away ;  leaving  my  baggage,  however,  at 
the  house  of  a  neighbor  until  I  should  call  for  it.  I  found 
a  good  room  at  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Joseph  Aston,  No  44 
South  Tennessee  Street ;  paid  him  six  dollars  for  a  week's 
board,  in  advance,  and  moved  my  things  there,  designing 
to  make  it  my  home,  at  least  until  I  had  accomplished 
one  of  the  objects  which  first  induced  me  to  remove  my 
residence  to  Indiana. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  313 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Behold  me,  then,  dear  reader,  fairly  domiciled  in  the 
State  which  was  to  be  my  future  residence.  'Tis  true, 
my  home  had  been  here  for  some  time,  but  I  had  been  so 
much  away  on  business,  that,  up  to  this  time,  I  hardly 
ventured  to  call  myself  a  Hoosier,  even  by  adoption ;  but 
now  I  felt  that  the  title  really  belonged  to  me,  and  I  could 
say,  without  any  mental  reservation,  that  I  was  an  Indi- 
anian. 

I  did  nothing  more  than  to  establish  my  quarters,  upon 
the  day  of  my  arrival  in  the  city,  it  being  near  nightfall, 
and  I  very  much  wearied  when  I  arrived  there ;  but  the 
next  day  I  went  to  work  with  a  will,  and,  by  hard  and 
steady  effort,  succeeded  in  getting  ten  subscribers  to  the 
"Life  of  Lincoln,"  and  two  for  "Tried  and  True."  I  or- 
dered a  lot  of  books,  of  both  kinds,  and  went  on  with  my 
canvassing,  thinking  the  prospects  were  very  favorable 
for  my  doing  a  good  business  there.  But,  alas !  how  de- 
ceptive are  all  human  appearances.  I  soon  found  that 
the  flattering  prospects,  under  which  I  had  started  out, 
were  but  for  a  day ;  that  they  were  even  more  ephemeral 
than  the  butterfly,  and  that,  with  the  works  I  had,  it  was 
impossible  to  succeed  there.  The  citizens  of  Indianapo- 
lis were  too  well  supplied  with  literature  of  the  class  I 
was  selling,  and  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  have  some- 
thing else — something  which  had  not  been  already  sold 
there ;  and  at  the  same  time  I  was  sufficiently  aware  of 
the  state  of  the  public  mind,  to  know  that  something  con- 


314 

nected  with  the  late  rebellion  would  sell  better  than  an,-- 
thing  else. 

Accordingly,  after  having  labored  over  a  week,  and 
taken  about  twenty-one  names  for  all  my  publications 
together,  I  wrote  to  a  Mr.  Lillie,  of  Chicago,  for  the  agency 
of  "  The  Lost  Cause,"  a  Southern  history  of  the  war,  by 
Mr.  Pollard,  late  editor  of  the  "Richmond  Examiner." 
Mr.  Lillie  referred  me  to  Mr.  George  B.  Fessenden,  of  Cin- 
cinnati, and  I  at  once  addressed  him  on  the  subject, 
receiving  by  express,  in  return,  the  agency  of  the  work, 
accompanied  with  a  prospectus,  subscription  book,  and 
some  instructions.  As  for  the  last,  however,  I  fancied 
that  I  knew  about  as  much  about  the  business  of  a  book 
agent  as  Mr.  Fessenden  did. 

I  immediately  went  to  work  with  my  new  book,  and 
found  that,  if  I  only  knew  what  parties  to  approach,  a  very 
good  business  could  be  done ;  but  I  was  too  much  of  a 
stranger  in  the  city,  and  knew  not  where  to  apply.  I 
thought  if  I  could  get  an  agent,  who  was  well  acquainted 
in  the  city,  and  have  that  agent  take  orders,  while  I  would 
deliver  the  books,  we  could  make  the  arrangement  mutu- 
ally profitable.  Accordingly  I  inserted,  in  the  "  Herald," 
the  following  notice : 

Wanted — A  person,  well  acquainted  in  the  city,  to  can- 
vass for  the  "  Southern  History  of  the  War,  by  E.  A.  Pol- 
lard." Call  at  No.  44  South  Tennessee  Street.  No  one 
need  apply  unless  they  are  well  acquainted  in  the  city, 
and  can  bring  good  references. 

In  a  few  hours  after  this  notice  made  its  appearance,  I 
had  several  callers,  and  soon  succeeded  in  making  an  ar- 
rangement with  a  gentleman  to  canvass  on  my  own  terms. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  give  these  terms  to  the  reader,  suf- 
fice it  to  say,  that  it  worked  well,  and  I  soon  found  I  could 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  315 

pay  my  agent  all  that  I  had  agreed  to,  and  still  make 
more  money  than  when  I  was  alone.  While  he  canvassed, 
I  delivered  the  books,  and  also  continued  my  trade  in 
photographs,  of  which  I  sold  a  great  many;  and  the  profits 
upon  them  being  enormous,  I  was  doing  a  very  fine  busi- 
ness. In  about  two  weeks  we  had  sold  no  less  than  fifty 
copies  of  "The  Lost  Cause,"  and  my  profits  from  that 
source  alone  were  about  fifty  dollars.  Add  to  this  the 
fact  that  I  made  about  as  much  more  from  the  sale  of 
photographs,  and  the  reader  will  have  no  difficulty  in  com- 
prehending the  fact  that  my  business  was  in  a  flourishing 
condition. 

About  this  time  I  learned  that  the  property  left  by  my 
brother  Frank,  when  he  went  into  the  rebel  army,  had 
been  confiscated  by  order  of  the  authorities  at  Washing- 
ton, and  made  application  for  its  restitution;  alleging  my 
own  loyalty  as  the  ground  of  my  claim.  I  received  a 
favorable  reply  to  my  application,  and  was  fully  satisfied 
that  if  I  had  the  money  to  go  South,  and  hunt  up  the 
necessary  proofs,  and  submit  them  to  the  consideration  of 
the  proper  officers,  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  my  suc- 
ceeding; but  there  was  the  rub.  The  one  hundred  dol- 
lars in  my  possession  would  go  but  a  little  way  in  the 
prosecution  of  a  claim  of  so  much  magnitude  as  this,  and 
whatever  was  to  be  done  must  be  done  quickly,  and  the 
only  thing  I  could  do  was  to  work  the  harder,  and  raise  all 
that  I  possibly  could  for  this  purpose. 

The  holidays  were  close  at  hand,  and  it  occurred  to  me 
that  if  I  had  a  book  suitable  for  a  Christmas  or  New- 
Year's  gift,  I  might  do  well  with  that  for  the  next  two  or 
three  weeks,  and  having  noticed  in  the  Journal  the  adver- 
tisement of  such  a  book,  published  by  a  Mr.  Newell,  in 
Vinton's  Block,  I  called  upon  him,  and  secured  the  agency 


316  ANNIE   NELLES  ;    OR, 

for  the  sale  of  it.  It  was  called  The  Republican  Court,  and 
was  a  most  beautifully  gotten-up  book — just  the  thing  for 
a  young  man  to  use  in  softening  the  obdurate  heart  of  his 
mistress.  Armed  with  this  document,  in  addition  to  those 
I  had  on  hand  already,  I  went  to  work  with  a  vigor  which 
produced  the  most  happy  results,  and,  in  a  short  time,  felt 
myself  able,  pecuniarily,  to  undertake  my  contemplated 
journey  to  the  South. 

Before  starting,  however,  I  shipped,  by  express,  to  a  dear 
friend  in  San  Francisco,  California,  a  copy  of  The  Repub- 
lican Court,  The  Lost  Cause,  and  a  finely-bound  copy  of 
Robinson  Crusoe,  as  a  holiday  gift.  I  trust  he  received 
them  in  due  time,  and  that  they  served  to  assure  him  that 
there  was  one  in  the  world  who  will  never,  never  forget 
his  kindness  to  her  in  her  hour  of  trouble. 

I  then  arranged  my  affairs  so  as  to  leave  all  my  busi- 
ness in  the  city  in  the  hands  of  the  agent  before  referred 
to,  and  started  out,  intending  to  go  to  the  South  before  I 
came  back  to  Indianapolis  again,  which  must  be  by  the 
first  of  April  next  ensuing.  I  had  commenced  proceed- 
ings for  a  divorce  from  my  husband,  and  as  the  case 
would  be  tried  in  April,  I  felt  that  it  was  necessary  for  me 
to  be  in  the  city  at  that  time. 

I  went  as  far  as  Shelbyville,  in  company  with  another 
lady ;  stepped  off"  there,  and  staid  a  few  days,  selling  sev- 
eral books,  and  then  went  on  to  Cincinnati,  where  I  wished 
to  have  an  interview  with  Mr.  Fessenden,  relative  to 
affairs  in  Indianapolis,  and  some  other  business  matters. 
In  due  time  I  arrived  in  Cincinnati  and  at  once  called  on 
Mr.  Fessenden,  who  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  see  me, 
and  earnestly  asked  me  why  I  had  left  Indianapolis.  I 
replied  by  giving  him  the  address  of  my  agent  there,  and 
telling  him  that  I  had  left  everything  in  his  hands,  and 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  317 

that  I  thought  he  would  find  no  cause  of  complaint  against 
him. 

"  But,  Mrs.  Nelles,"  said  he,  "  we  cannot  give  you  up 
as  an  agent.     You  are  altogether  too  valuable  to  us." 

"But  I  have  worked  a  long  time  for  you,"  gaid  I,  "and 
now  I  must  work  for  myself  a  little." 

"Have  you  not  been  working  for  yourself,  at  the  same 
time  you  were  working  for  me  ?  Has  not  the  sale  of  my 
publications  been  profitable  to  you,  as  well  as  to  me  ?" 

"  Yes ;  but  there  are  other  matters  which  claim  my  at- 
tention." 

"What  are  these  other  matters?  Are  you  going  to 
marry  and  give  up  selling  books  ?" 

" No,"  I  replied,  laughing ;  "I  am  not  going  to  marry. 
I  am  going  to  return  to  my  old  home  in  the  South." 

And  then  I  told  him  about  my  application  for  the  resti- 
tution of  the  confiscated  property  of  my  brother,  and  that 
I  was  going  South  to  find  the  evidence  relative  to  it. 

"Just  the  thing,"  said  he.  "Take  some  of  my  publi- 
cations along  with  you  to  sell,  and  thus  help  to  defray 
your  expenses.  I  have  no  agents  in  the  South,  and  you 
can  sell  wherever  you  see  proper." 

"  But  times  are  so  hard  down  there,  that  I  am  afraid 
nothing  can  be  done." 

"I  do  not  suppose  you  can  sell  as  many  books  there  as 
you  can  in  the  North,  but  still  I  believe  you  can  do  some- 
thing, and  every  little  helps,  you  know." 

"What  have  you  that  I  can  sell  there  ?" 

"Take 'The  Lost  Cause.'" 

"  I  would  prefer  something  else." 

"Well,  I  have  a  new  book,  just  out,  with  which  I  am 
sure  you  can  do  well  there.  I  will  appoint  you  a  roving 
agent  anywhere  in  the  Southern  States." 


318  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

"V^hatisit?" 

"The  General  History  of  Freemasonry  in  Europe: 
translated  from  the  French  of  Emanuel  Rebold,  by  J.  F. 
Brennan,  Esq." 

The  title  of  the  book  struck  me  favorably.  I  had  long 
been  an  ardent  admirer  of  Freemasonry;  my  father,  and 
brother  Frank,  had  both  been  Masons,  as  also  my  step- 
father. Captain  Lake;  and  I  felt  that  these  facts  gave 
me  some  claims  upon  the  fraternity,  and  that,  aside  from 
the  intrinsic  merits  of  the  work,  they  would  aid  me  in 
effecting  sales  of  it  among  the  craft.  I  knew,  too,  that 
Freemasonry  had  very  many  followers  in  the  South,  and 
that  they  were  generally  very  ardently  attached  to  the 
order,  and  would  be  more  likely  to  buy  a  book  upon  that 
subject  than  any  other.  I  had  my  father's  diploma  in  my 
possession,  and  the  exhibition  of  this  would  help  to  prove 
my  claims  upon  the  Masonic  brotherhood ;  and,  even  if  I 
failed  in  the  attempt  to  sell,  it  would  involve  but  very  little 
expense — only  the  cost  of  the  outfit — while,  if  I  succeeded, 
the  result  could  not  be  otherwise  than  good,  in  more 
senses  than  one.  These  reflections  decided  me  in  favor 
of  taking  the  appointment  he  offered  me ;  and  I  told  him 
I  would  accept  his  proposition,  paid  him  for  a  book,  bid 
him  good-bye,  and  returned  to  my  hotel. 

Upon  examining  the  book,  I  found  the  names  of  some 
of  my  ancestors  honorably  mentioned  in  its  pages,  and 
was  more  than  ever  satisfied  that  I  had  accepted  Mr.  Fes- 
senden's  proposition.  I  now  felt  that  I  had  a  direct  per- 
sonal interest  in  the  work ;  for,  while  I  was  carrying  on 
my  accustomed  avocation,  I  was  also  spreading  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  virtues  and  usefulness  of  my  revered  grand- 
father; and  this  afforded  me  no  small  satisfaction.  And 
this  is  one  reason,  among  others,  why  I  have  continued  in 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  319 

the  sale  of  this  work  until  the  present  time,  and  why  I 
regard  it  with  more  affection  than  any  work  I  have  ever 
sold. 

The  same  evening  that  I  left  Mr.  Fessenden,  I  took 
passage,  on  board  a  river  packet,  for  Memphis ;  and,  about 
five  o'clock  in  the, evening,  she  cast  off  her  moorings,  and 
quietly  dropped  down  the  stream.  It  was  dark,  and  there 
was  nothing  to  be  seen,  and  nothing  to  detain  me  on 
deck;  so  I  went  to  my  state-room,  and,  at  an  early  hour, 
retired  to  rest. 

In  due  time,  and  without  any  incidents  worthy  of  note, 
I  arrived  at  Memphis.  My  trip,  down  the  river,  had  been 
very  pleasant,  and  I  had  enjoyed  it  very  much ;  but  a  pe- 
riod was  now  to  be  put  to  my  enjoyment :  for,  when  we 
rounded  to  at  the  landing  at  Memphis,  it  was  raining  with 
violence,  and  the  mud  lay,  in  the  streets,  apparently  of  an 
interminable  depth.  In  view  of  this  state  of  facts,  I  de- 
cided to  make  my  stay  in  Memphis  of  very  brief  duration. 
I  had  intended  trying  to  sell  some  books  there;  but  the 
weather  was  such  as  evidently  to  render  hopeless  any  at- 
tempt at  canvassing,  and,  of  course,  I  must  forego  it  for 
the  present,  and  hope  for  better  weather  on  my  return. 

There  were  two  or  three  men  in  Memphis  whom  it  w^as 
necessary  for  me  to  see,  in  connection  with  the  business 
which  had  originally  brought  me  to  the  South,  and  the 
labor  of  wading  through  the  mud  and  rain  to  hunt  them 
up,  was  all  I  cared  about  attempting;  but  from  that  it  would 
not  do  to  shrink.  Beside,  I  had  encountered  these  adver- 
saries before,  and  had  learned  the  very  important  fact  that 
I  was  neither  sugar  nor  salt,  and  that  there  was  not  the 
least  danger  of  my  melting  away.  Accordingly,  armed 
with  a  formidable  cotton  umbrella,  and  a  pair  of  stout  bro- 
gans,  I  plunged  into  the  apparently  endless  and  bottom- 


320  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

less  sea  of  mud  before  me,  and,  bravely  breasting  its  waves, 
in  due  time  found  the  parties  of  whom  I  was  in  search. 
My  interviews  with  every  one  of  them  were  in  the  highest 
degree  satisfactory;  and  it  was  with  no  little  elation  of 
spirits  that  I  announced  to  myself  that  my  business  was 
c(  mpleted,  and  took  the  cars  for  Atlanta,  the  next  step  in 
my  journey,  and  where  I  hoped  to  complete  the  evidence 
which  was  to  put  me  in  possession  of  my  deceased  brother's 
estates. 

As  we  rolled  onward  toward  Atlanta,  through  a  region 
of  country  every  foot  of  which  had  been  the  scene  of  the 
desolating  operations  of  hostile  armies,  how  did  my  heart 
throb  with  anguish  as  I  gazed  upon  the  almost  entire  de- 
struction of  that  once  lovely  land !  For  miles  upon  miles 
the  country  was  destitute  of  fences,  and,  in  many  instances, 
of  houses,  while  the  very  humblest  forms  of  vegetation 
seemed  trodden  out  of  existence,  and  even  out  of  sight, 
under  the  hoofs  of  animals  and  the  feet  of  thousands  of 
armed  men ;  acres  upon  acres  of  ground,  which  had  once 
borne  magnificent  crops  of  corn,  and  cotton,  and  tobacco, 
and  wheat,  now  wearied  and  pained  the  eye  by  their  broad 
stretch  of  lifeless  brown,  unrelieved  by  the  least  display 
of  green;  the  long  lines  of  trenches  and  rifle-pits  told  elo- 
quent stories  of  hours  of  toil  expended  for  the  sole  purpose 
of  more  effectually  destroying  our  fellow-men;  the  little 
mounds  of  earth,  which  here  and  there  marked  the  land- 
scape in  every  direction,  spoke  eloquently  of  some  brave 
soul  who,  clad  either  in  the  blue  or  the  gray,  had  offered 
up  his  life  upon  the  altar  of  a  cause  which,  to  him,  was  holy 
and  just;  while,  occasionally,  a  thicker  and  more  numer- 
ous collection  of  these  tell-tale  heaps  of  earth  would  speak 
of  the  mortal  and  breathless  struggle  in  which  those  who 
now  rested  there  so  quietly,  had  once  manfully  and  bravely 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  321 

borne  their  part.  What  mattered  it  to  me,  as  I  gazed  upon 
these  speaking  monuments  of  brave  men's  prowess,  whether 
they  held  the  corses  of  our  own  brave  soldier  boys,  or 
whether  those  lonely  resting-places  were  filled  with  the 
remains  of  the  misguided,  but  no  less  brave,  soldiers  of  the 
confederacy  ?  They  were  alike  the  resting-places  of  brave 
and  true  men,  each  one  of  whom  had  some  friends  in  some 
far-off  land,  perchance,  to  mourn  their  loss,  and  shed  the 
silent  tear  of  sorrow  o'er  their  untimely  decease ;  and,  though 
I  had  no  sympathy  with  the  cause  which  had  called  these 
brave  men  to  arms,  still  I  could  respect  their  manhood, 
their  devotion  to  their  convictions  of  right,  and  could  drop 
the  sympathetic  tear  over  their  violent  and  bloody  decease. 
I  could  not  but  think  that,  somewhere  in  the  broad,  sunny 
lands  of  which  those  around  us  were  a  part,  I  had  an  only 
and  dearly  loved  brother,  whose  head  was  pillowed,  until 
the  last  great  day,  upon  just  such  a  lowly  bed  as  these ; 
who  had  fallen  in  the  same  cause,  which  I  believed  to  be 
unjust  and  unholy;  who  had  fallen,  as  the  brave  men 
around  us  had  fallen,  in  the  discharge  of  what  he  deemed 
to  be  his  duty;  and  my  heart  was  incapable  of  entertain- 
ing any  feeling  of  bitterness  toward  any  of  the  fallen  braves 
amid  whose  tombs  our  train  was  wending  its  way. 

From  these  reflections,  my  mind  naturally  wandered 
away  to  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate  people  who  had  inhab- 
ited this  country  before  the  breaking  out  of  the  rebellion. 
Although  a  long  time  had  elapsed  since  the  close  of  hos- 
tilities, the  country,  in  this  particular,  as  well  as  in  all 
others,  still  bore  traces  of  the  fearful  struggle  through 
which  it  had  passed,  and  in  the  plainest  manner  indicated 
the  fearful  character  of  the  punishment  which  their  folly 
and  madness  had  brought  upon  this  miserable  people.  It 
was  true,  it  was  the  fruit  of  their  own  crime  and  folly,  and 
21 


322 

for  which  they  ought  to  suffer ;  but  surely  their  punish- 
ment had  been  equal  to  the  magnitude  of  their  offense, 
and  ought  to  fully  satisfy  the  most  clamorous  demands  of 
vengeance.  Surely  their  ruined,  desolated  farms;  their 
property  destroyed,  or  taken  for  military  purposes,  without 
the  possibility  of  their  receiving  any  compensation ;  their 
once  happy  homes,  from  which  they  had  been  compelled 
to  flee  to  avoid  the  deadly  hail-storm  of  bullets  which 
swept  over  them,  and  which  were  too  often  mere  masses 
of  blackened  and  shapeless  ruins;  the  accumulations  of 
years  of  toil  and  privation  swept  away  forever ;  and,  above 
all,  the  sable  weeds  of  mourning,  which  enveloped  every 
Southern  face,  were  most  powerful  evidences  of  the  sever- 
ity of  the  punishment  meted  out  to  them,  and  ought,  as 
far  as  human  vengeance  can  go,  to  fully  compensate  for 
the  wrong  they  had  done.  It  irs  true,  that  the  suffering, 
caused  by  the  war,  had  not  fallen  upon  this  section  alone; 
it  is  true,  that  by  the  firesides  of  the  North,  places  had 
been  made  vacant,  and  many  a  brave  son,  noble  brother, 
and  kind,  indulgent  husband  and  father  had  gone  forth 
from  loving  friends  never  to  return ;  that  woe  and  misery 
had  there,  too,  as  well  as  in  the  South,  been  sown  broad- 
cast to  gratify  the  most  gigantic  and  criminal  ambition  of 
the  age;  but  all  the  other  sad  results  of  the  conflict  had 
been  visited  upon  the  South  alone.  I  am  no  apologist  for 
the  crime  which  the  leaders  of  the  rebellion  inaugurated 
against  the  most  beneficent  and  the  freest  government 
upon  which  the  sun  ever  shone,  and  upon  them  I  would 
willingly  see  visited  the  most  direful  punishment  which 
the  human  imagination  could  devise ;  but  for  their  poor, 
deluded,  misguided  followers,  the  evidences  of  suffering 
which  I  saw  on  all  sides  awakened  in  my  breast  naught 
but  feelings  of  the  most  intense  pity. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  323 

There  was  another  reflection  which  occurred  to  my 
mind,  in  connection  with  this  subject,  and  which  seems  to 
me  to  have  no  little  bearing  on  the  determination  of  the 
policy  with  which  the  two  sections  ought  to  be  regarded 
in  contemplating  the  results  of  the  contest.  While  both 
sections  alike  mourn  the  loss  of  thousands  of  fallen 
braves,  the  sorrow  of  the  loyalists  is  tempered  with  their 
well-earned  and  well-merited  thought  of  glorious  victory 
won,  and  they  can  exult  in  the  proud  consciousness  that 
the  friends  whom  they  mourn  fell  in  defense  of  a  holy  and 
noble  cause,  and  by  their  deaths  aided  in  the  achievement 
of  the  grand  triumph  of  right  and  justice.  But  to  the 
South  none  of  the  consolations  flowing  from  this  reflec- 
tion are  vouchsafed.  Their  cup  of  sorrow  is  unmixed  by 
any  pleasing  thoughts,  save  the  recollection  of  the  per- 
sonal bravery  of  the  fallen,  while  its  bitterness  is  enhanced 
by  the  deep  humiliation  of  utter  defeat,  and  the  fact  that 
the  valuable  lives,  so  lost,  were  sacrificed  in  an  unjust  and 
iniquitous  cause.  If  anything  can  add  poignancy  to  the 
sorrows  they  must  endure,  it  must  be  this  very  reflection. 

But  while  my  mind  was  thus  dwelling  upon  the  results 
of  the  war,  the  cars  were  bearing  me  onward  to  Atlanta, 
and  at  last  the  Gate  City  of  the  South  burst  upon  our 
view ;  but,  alas !  it  was  no  longer  the  lovely,  flourishing 
city  it  wa«  when  I  last  beheld  it.  Then  long  rows  of 
magnificent  structures  lined  all  its  principal  streets,  while 
its  suburbs  were  filled  with  magnificent  private  residences, 
adorned  with  all  that  wealth  could  purchase,  or  that  taste 
of  man  could  devise  to  gratify  the  senses,  or  enhance  the 
peace  and  happiness  which  there  reigned  supreme.  Now, 
the  entire  business^  part  of  the  city  was  a  mass  of  shape- 
less and  unsighty  ruins.  Whole  blocks,  which  had  once 
stood  erect,  tall  and  stately,  and  were  the  pride,  not  only 


324  ANNIE   NELLES;   OR, 

of  their  owners,  but  of  every  denizen  of  the  city,  were  now 
mere  heaps  of  rubbish,  bricks  and  mortar ;  while,  in  many 
instances,  the  palatial  residences  and  magnificent  grounds 
of  the  suburbs  had,  by  their  occupancy  as  quarters  for 
troops,  been  shorn  of  all  their  original  beauty,  and  re- 
duced to  a  state  of  chaos  and  confusion,  from  which  it 
would  take  years  to  resuscitate  them,  even  if  they  could 
ever  be  restored  to  anything  like  their  former  condition. 
I  had  read,  in  the  public  journals,  the  accounts  of  the  hard 
fate  which  befell  the  city  of  Atlanta  when,  at  the  end  of 
a  campaign  almost  unparalleled  in  history,  she  fell  into 
the  hands  of  Sherman  and  his  victorious  legions ;  but  I 
was  utterly  unprepared  for  the  sad  scene  of  desolation 
which  was  presented  to  my  view.  Although  I  knew  that 
such  was  the  fate  of  war,  and  that  the  curse  had  been 
brought  upon  the  city  by  her  own  people  and  friends,  still 
I  could  not  but  feel  saddened  in  my  inmost  heart  when  I 
came  to  fully  realize  the  ruin  that  had  been  wrought ;  and 
I  covered  my  eyes  to  shut  out  the  hateful  sight,  while  the 
hot,  scalding  tears  of  agony  bedewed  my  cheeks. 


THE   LIFE   OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  325 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Such  was  my  return  to  Atlanta,  after  an  absence  of 
nearly  five  years.  What  a  blight  had  fallen  upon  the 
place  during  that  time !  And  yet  it  was  no  worse  than 
the  blight  which  had  fallen  upon  my  own  life  during  the 
same  time.  The  contrast  between  Atlanta,  as  it  was  then, 
and  as  I  now  beheld  it,  was  no  greater  than  the  contrast 
between  my  situation  then,  and  what  it  now  was.  Then 
I  fondly  believed  myself  the  wife  of  a  noble  and  honora- 
ble man,  and  with  every  prospect  of  a  long  and  happy 
life  before  me,  in  the  enjoyment  of  which  I  should  cease 
to  remember  the  sorrows  of  my  childhood.  Since  then  I 
had  learned  that  I  was  not  his  wife ;  had  separated  from 
him,  and  united  my  fortunes  with  those  of  a  man  who  had 
proved  to  be  only  less  base  than  he — had  finally  parted 
with  him  forever,  and  was  now  alone  in  the  world,  with 
no  one  upon  whom  I  could  lean  for  support  under  any 
circumstances.  Then  I  had  a  dearly  loved  brother,  on 
whom,  in  times  of  sorest  distress,  I  could  rely  for  relief  and 
assistance — now  my  brother  was  gone,  and  I  stood  alone, 
the  last  of  my  family,  and  comparatively  helpless.  Is  it 
strange  that,  as  this  terrible  view  of  my  situation  rushed 
across  my  mind,  my  heart  sunk  within  me,  and  I  again 
almost  wished  that  I  might  lie  down,  too,  and  die,  and  be 
at  rest  forever  ?  But  why  indulge  these  gloomy  reflec- 
tions ?  I  had  work  to  do,  and  would  strive  in  the  midst 
of  my  labors  to  forget  all  my  sorrows.  But  this  was 
easier  said  than  done,  for  at  every  step  I  took  there  was 


326 

something  to  remind  me  of  the  past,  and  of  my  bitter  lone- 
liness. 

I  went  out  to  the  Lake  mansion.  It  was  like  all  the 
rest,  in  ruins.  Some  portions  of  the  walls  were  standing, 
but  that  was  all — the  grounds,  the  shrubbery,  the  fences, 
the  grove  which  had  once  been  the  pride  and  admiration 
of  the  surrounding  country — all  were  gone,  and  only  suffi- 
cient traces  remained  to  indicate  what  had  once  been 
there  and  remind  me  of  their  former  beauty.  At  the 
negro-quarters  I  found  some  of  the  old  servants  of  the 
plantation,  who  were  living  there  and  cultivating  some  of 
the  ground,  under  the  protection  of  the  Freedman's  Bu- 
reau. Tom  and  Silvie  were  both  dead,  they  told  me,  while 
Caroline  had  married,  and  was  living  at  some  distance 
from  there,  with  a  little  family  of  children  growing  up 
around  her. 

Sick  at  heart,  I  turned  away,  and  went  in  search  of  the 
graves  of  my  loved  ones.  There  they  lay,  side  by  side, 
but  so  neglected  and  overgrown  with  weeds  that  it  was 
with  difficulty  I  could  find  them.  There  were  the  graves 
of  mother,  Henry,  Kate,  baby  May,  and  my  own  little 
darling,  and  another  had  been  added  since  I  was  there 
last.  A  plain  board  stood  at  its  head,  with  simply  the 
words  Frank  Hamilton  on  it.  This,  then,  was  the  last 
resting-place  of  the  last  survivor  of  my  family.  As  I 
stood  thus  alone  by  the  graves  of  my  departed  friends, 
my  mind  wandered  back  to  the  time  when  I  stood  thus 
by  the  side  of  my  father's  tomb,  in  the  far  off  city  of  Phil- 
adelphia, and  a  sense  of  my  utter  loneliness  so  overcame 
me  that  I  burst  into  tears,  and,  offering  up  a  prayer  to  my 
Heavenly  Father  for  protection,  I  turned  and  left  the 
ground.  As  I  wandered  back  to  the  city,  I  thought  how 
much  pleasure  I  had  anticipated  in  the  early  days  of  my 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  •  327 

marriage  with  Frank  Nelles,  in  paying  the  visit  I  had  just 
made.  I  had  then  contemplated  this  visit  with  him  at 
my  side,  while  his  tears  would  mingle  with  mine  in  silent 
respect  to  the  memory  of  my  departed  kinsmen.  There, 
too,  by  the  side  of  those  graves,  I  would  put  him  in  pos- 
session of  all  the  facts  in  my  past  history,  of  which  he 
had  hitherto  been  kept  in  ignorance,  and  would  implore 
his  pardon  for  the  partial  deception  I  had  practiced  upon 
him ;  but,  like  all  my  other  castles  of  air,  this  had  now 
fallen  about  my  ears,  and  was  lying  in  ruins  at  my  feet. 
Such  had  ever  been  my  life — one  constant  scene  of  dis- 
appointments and  sorrows. 

I  returned  to  the  city  and  put  up  at  the  only  hotel  there 
was  in  the  place,  where  I  passed  the  night  almost  in  tears, 
for  sleep  I  could  not.  My  mind  was  too  much  occupied 
with  gloomy  reminiscences  of  the  past,  and  dark  fore- 
bodings of  the  future,  to  allow  me  to  rest,  and  with  the 
first  flush  of  the  dawn  I  arose  from  my  uneasy  couch  to 
attempt  the  work  which  had  brought  me  there,  intending 
to  transact  it  as  speedily  as  possible,  and  bid  adieu  for- 
ever to  a  place  so  fraught  with  sorrowful  memories  as  was 
now  the  city  of  Atlanta.  How  I  fretted  until  the  arrival 
of  business  hours  would  enable  me  to  visit  the  public 
offices,  and  attend  to  the  matter  which  I  hoped  would  put 
me  in  possession  of  wealth,  and  enable  me  to  give  up  the 
life  of  a  book  agent  forever.  I  may  now  whisper  in  the 
ear  of  my  reader,  however,  that  were  I  in  possession  of 
the  most  boundless  wealth,  I  do  not  think  I  would  give 
up  the  avocation  of  buying  and  selling  books  as  an  agent. 
I  would  still  follow  the  business,  not  as  a  means  of  mak- 
ing money  simply,  though,  as  has  already  appeared  in  these 
pages,  it  is  very  profitable,  but  from  pure  love  of  it.  This 
is  in  confidence,  and  is  the  result  of  my  present  views — 


328  *  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

then  everything  was  distasteful  to  me,  and  my  only 
thought  was  to  get  the  means  which  my  brother  had  pro- 
vided for  my  support ;  get  my  divorce  from  Nelles ;  then 
finish  this  history  of  my  life ;  and,  after  placing  a  copy  of 
it  in  his  hands,  retire  from  the  public  gaze  forever.  Yes,  I 
would  recover  my  property ;  would  get  Carrie,  and  adopt 
some  little  orphan  boy  for  a  playmate  for  her ;  would  let 
Frank  Nelles  know  what  he  had  lost  by  his  cruelty  and 
treachery  to  me ;  and  would  then,  in  seclusion,  and  in  the 
society  alone  of  my  dear  children,  find  consolation  for  all 
the  sorrows  I  had  endured.  These  were,  then,  my  plans ; 
but  I  am  bound  to  confess  that,  to  a  great  extent,  they 
have  thus  far  failed  of  being  realized. 

The  mystic  hour  of  nine — standard  hour  with  men  who 
are  elected  to  serve  the  will  of  the  people — having  at 
length  arrived,  I  sallied  forth  to  see  what  could  be  done 
toward  the  fulfillment  of  my  mission.  My  first  call  was 
at  the  office  of  the  Register  of  Deeds,  which  I  found  oc- 
cupied by  a  very  polite  and  accommodating  gentleman. 
The  records  had,  fortunately,  escaped  the  storm  of  gen- 
eral destruction  which  had  swept  over  the  devoted  city; 
and  we  were  soon  immersed  in  a  profound  examination  of 
their  pages.  We  soon  found  where  Frank  had  made  over 
all  his  property  to  me,  in  the  event  of  his  decease.  This 
was  the  first  step  gained  in  the  investigation;  but  now 
the  question  arose,  what  was  the  present  condition  of  the 
property  thus  conveyed  ?  Was  it  in  such  a  condition  that 
it  could  be  identified,  and  a  tangible  claim  for  its  restitu- 
tion be  presented  to  the  General  Government  ?  Further 
investigation  revealed  the  fact  that,  much  of  it  had  been 
sold  for  taxes,  under  the  authority  of  the  Confederate 
Government — all  had  been  confiscated,  upon  the  suppres- 
sion of  the  rebellion,  and  there  seemed  little  prospect  of 


THE   LIFE    OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  329 

recovering  anything,  except  at  the  end  of  a  long  course 
of  expensive  litigation,  which  I  was  but  illy  prepared  to 
undertake.  My  heart  was  not  a  little  dismayed  at  the 
prospect  before  me ;  but,  nevertheless,  I  had  already  gone 
too  far,  and  expended  too  much  money,  to  think  of  shrink- 
ing from  the  contest  at  the  present  stage.  Accordingly, 
I  procured,  from  the  recorder,  duly  certified  copies  of  all 
the  deeds  in  any  way  bearing  upon  my  property  (or 
that  which  I  claimed),  and  went  to  the  office  of  an  attor- 
ney, whom  he  recommended  as  the  best  in  the  city,  de- 
signing to  place  all  the  papers  in  his  hands,  and  leave  him 
to  pursue  his  own  judgment  as  to  the  best  course  of  pro- 
ceeding, while  I  returned  to  my  home  in  Indiana,  obtained 
my  divorce,  and  supported  myself  at  my  business,  until 
the  final  issue  of  my  application  at  Washington. 

I  was  fortunate  in  securing  the  services  of  an  attorney 
of  the  highest  degree  of  talent,  and  whose  eminence  in 
his  profession  was  a  sure  guarantee  that  my  affairs  would 
receive  the  most  prompt  and  careful  attention  at  his 
hands — none  other  than  the  Hon.  F.  M.  Goodman.  He  at 
once  undertook  my  case,  and  assured  me  that  no  pains  or 
trouble  should  be  spared  to  bring  it  to  an  early  and  suc- 
cessful issue.  Satisfied  that  I  had  done  all  that  could  be 
done  to  insure  success,  I  decided  not  to  remain  any  longer 
in  Atlanta,  but  to  return,  at  once,  to  Indiana.  I  hated  to 
leave  the  place  without  making  any  efforts  whatever  for 
the  sale. of  my  book;  but,  the  truth  was,  that  everything 
was  in  such  a  depressed  condition  there,  that  I  felt  sure 
any  effort  of  mine  would  be  vain.  There  was  no  money 
in  the  country,  and  without  that  "  root  of  all  evil,"  it  was 
but  little  use  for  me  to  take  any  names  for  the  book,  even 
if  the  people  would,  under  such  circumstances,  be  likely 
to  look  with  favor  upon  a  proposition  to  subscribe.     Be- 


330  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

side,  there  was  too  many  unpleasant  memories  clustering 
around  that  section  of  country  for  me  to  remain  there 
any  longer  than  stern  necessity  demanded. 

Accordingly,  as  soon  as  my  arrangements  with  Mr. 
Goodman  were  completed  to  my  satisfaction,  I  settled  my 
bill  at  the  hotel  and  took  the  first  train  for  Chattanooga, 
having  been  in  Atlanta  just  four  days,  instead  of  four 
weeks,  at  least,  as  I  had  intended  when  leaving  Cin- 
cinnati. 

I  omitted  to  say,  in  its  proper  place,  that  I  had  written 
from  Memphis,  on  my  way  down,  to  a  son  of  my  husband 
in  Chicago ;  to  which  letter,  however,  I  never  received  any 
answer ;  thus  proving  that  I  was  not  only  cast  off  by  my 
husband,  but  also  by  the  whole  family ;  no  doubt  through 
the  influence  of  him  from  whom  I  had  a  right  to  expect 
different  treatment.  But  the  only  effect  of  this  neglect 
was  to  strengthen  and  confirm  me  in  the  resolution  to 
sever  my  connection  with  them  forever,  by  means  of  the 
decree  of  divorce  for  which  I  was  about  applying. 

From  Chattanooga  I  pursued  my  way  through  Nashville 
to  Louisville,  whence  I  went  by  mail-packet  to  Cincinnati, 
only  stopping  at  each  place  so  long  as  was  necessary  on 
account  of  the  delay  in  connection  of  trains  and  the  like. 
I  reached  Cincinnati  in  four  days  from  the  time  of  leaving 
Atlanta — having  only  been  absent  about  three  weeks. 

I  called  at  once  upon  Mr.  Fessenden,  who  expressed  no 
little  astonishment  at  seeing  me  back  so  soon,  and  still  more 
when  I  informed  him  that  I  had  not  sold  a  single  copy  of  the 
History  of  Freemasonry.  I  did  not  tell  him  that  the  book 
had  not  been  once  offered  for  sale,  but  told  him  that  times 
were  so  hard  there  that  nothing  could  be  done,  and  that  I 
had,  therefore,  decided  to  return  to  a  more  promising  field. 
He  asked  me  something  about  the  business  which  had 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  331 

taken  me  there,  but  I  evaded  any  direct  information  rela- 
tive to  it,  and  only  told  him  that,  in  the  present  confused 
state  of  affairs  there,  it  was  impossible  to  accomplish  any 
thing  in  any  line  of  business. 

I  then  returned  to  the  subject  of  "The  General  History 
of  Freemasonry,"  and  told  him  that,  as  I  had  done  so 
poorly  in  my  trip  to  the  South,  I  thought  he  ought  to  give 
me  a  chance  to  make  myself  whole  by  giving  me  an  op- 
portunity to  sell  the  book  where  there  could  be  something 
made  of  it.  He  asked  me  where  I  would  like  to  work.  I 
told  him  I  would  like  the  entire  State  of  Indiana,  and  the 
counties  of  Southern  Michigan  along  the  line  of  the  Mich- 
igan Southern  &  Northern  Indiana  Railroad.  He  replied, 
with  a  smile,  that  my  desires  were  very  moderate,  and  that 
he  thought  he  could  gratify  them,  adding,  with  a  slight 
dash  of  flattery,  that  he  knew  of  no  one  to  whom  he  would 
rather  intrust  this  district  than  to  myself.  I  also  made 
arrangements  with  him  to  canvass  the  same  territory  for 
"  The  History  of  Morgan's  Cavalry,"  which  last,  however, 
I  kept  but  a  short  time. 

My  business  in  Cincinnati  being  ended,  I  left  that  city 
the  next  morning,  for  Indianapolis,  to  devote  myself  once 
more  to  my  chosen  avocation,  and,  at  the  same  time,  attend 
to  getting  my  divorce,  after  which  I  would  be  free  to  change 
my  location,  or  do  anything  else,  at  my  own  pleasure.  I 
had  not  said  anything  to  any  one  about  the  motive  which 
induced  my  visit  to  the  South,  nor,  indeed,  did  anybody  in 
Indianapolis  know  that  my  journey  had  been  extended 
beyond  Memphis ;  and  I  decided  not  to  enlighten  anybody 
at  the  present,  either  as  to  where  I  had  been,  or  as  to  my 
prospects  in  the  South.  Certainly,  it  was  nobody's  busi- 
ness, and  I  would  only  leave  them  to  suppose  that  my  ab- 


^32  ANNIE   NELLES;   OR, 

sence  had  been  caused  by  some  matter  in  connection  with 
my  agency. 

In  due  time  I  arrived  in  Indianapolis,  and  went  at  once 
to  my  old  boarding-house,  at  No.  44  South  Tennessee  street, 
where  I  was  very  gladly  welcomed  by  all  the  family.  In 
pursuance  of  my  resolution,  I  said  nothing  about  my  South- 
ern journey,  merely  going  about  my  business  as  usual,  and 
occasionally  dropping  a  remark  about  the  condition  of  af- 
fairs in  Memphis,  in  order  to  convey  the  impression  that 
that  city  had  been  my  stopping-place  during  my  absence 
from  home. 

In  the  mean  time,  my  attorneys  had  commenced  proceed- 
ings for  my  divorce,  and,  Mr.  Nelles  being  a  non-resident 
of  the  State,  it  was  necessary  to  advertise  the  pendency 
of  the  suit  in  some  newspaper  published  in  the  city.  This 
was  rather  unpleasant,  as  giving  too  much  publicity  to  a 
matter  about  which  I,  very  naturally,  desired  as  much  se- 
cresy  as  possible ;  but  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and,  accord- 
ingly, the  necessary  affidavit  was  filed,  and  the  cause  duly 
published  in  the  Weekly  Indiana  State  Journal.  After 
this  expose  of  one  of  my  objects  in  locating  at  Indianap- 
olis, it  was  with  fear  and  trembling  that  I  attempted  to  do 
anything  in  the  way  of  canvassing.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
every  one  must  have  read  it,  that  they  would  know  who  I 
was,  and  would  make  unpleasant  comments  about  it  when- 
ever I  applied  for  a  subscriber.  Doubtless  my  fears  were 
entirely  unfounded,  and  that  not  one  person  in  every  thou- 
sand of  the  inhabitants  of  Indianapolis  had  ever  seen  the 
notice,  or  would  know  to  whom  it  referred ;  but  still  they 
existed,  and  they  finally  made  so  much  impression  on  my 
mind  as  to  induce  me  to  withdraw  almost  entirely  from 
active  canvassing  myself. 

But  as  I  had  not  yet  succeeded  in  getting  an  agent  to 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AOENT.  333 

my  satisfaction,  I  had  to  keep  on  at  work  myself,  and  with 
my  Masonic  work  I  was  doing  very  well.  In  three  days' 
time  I  took  no  less  than  twenty-five  subscribers  for  this 
work,  the  mayor  of  the  city  being  the  first  one ;  and  to 
his  kindness  I  am  indebted  for  much  of  my  success  there. 
I  was  but  little  acquainted  with  the  Masonic  fraternity 
there,  but,  having  been  informed  that  Mayor  Gavin  was 
one,  I  had  asked  him  to  give  me  the  names  of  men  whom 
he  thought  would  be  likely  to  take  the  book.  He  very 
kindly  gave  me  a  long  list  of  names,  and  in  no  one  in- 
stance did  I  fail  to  sell  a  copy  of  the  work  to  one  whose 
name  he  had  given  me.  I  sold,  altogether,  about  one  hun- 
dred copies  of  this  work  in  Indianapolis ;  many  of  them  to 
members  of  the  Legislature,  which  happened  to  be  in  ses- 
sion at  the  time  I  was  canvassing  there. 

During  the  same  time  I  had  sold  only  five  or  six  copies 
of  the  "  History  of  Morgan's  Cavalry,"  and  feeling  that  I 
could  not  devote  sufficient  time  to  this  work,  without  in- 
terfering with  the  other,  I  gave  it  up  entirely,  and  re- 
turned to  Mr.  Fessenden  several  copies  already  ordered. 
In  fact,  I  was  so  much  interested  in  the  sale  of  the  Ma- 
sonic history,  and  was  succeeding  so  well  with  it,  that  I 
really  felt  but  little  inclination  to  work  for  anything  else. 

Having,  however,  learned  by  accident  that  all  the  sub- 
scribers to  "The  Lost  Cause"  had  not  been  supplied,  and 
that  there  was  some  dissatisfaction  among  them  in  conse- 
quence, I  called  upon  Mr.  Barbour,  the  gentleman  in 
whose  hands  I  had  left  the  agency  for  that  work  upon  my 
starting  South,  took  from  him  his  list  of  subscribers,  re- 
voked his  agency,  and  took  charge  of  the  sales  of  the  work 
in  person.  I  delivered  books  to  all  whose  names  he  had 
taken,  and  took  two  or  three  new  subscribers ;  then,  find- 
ing it  an  up-hill  business,  I  declined  to  work  for  it  any 


334  ANNIE    NELLES  ;    OR, 

more,  and  finally  gave  up  canvassing  for  everything  ex- 
cept the  Masonic  history,  devoting  all  my  time  and  atten- 
tion to  that. 

With  this  work  I  was  doing  very  well,  indeed.  I  had 
now  been  at  work  for  it  only  about  a  month,  and,  as  the 
reader  is  already  informed,  had  sold  about  one  hundred 
copies ;  but  Indianapolis  had  been  pretty  thoroughly  can- 
vassed, and  sales  were  getting  very  dull.  I,  therefore, 
decided  to  leave  there,  for  a  time,  and  try  my  fortune  a 
little  farther  north — at  Lafayette,  and  some  of  the  other 
towns  along  the  line  of  the  Wabash  Valley  Railroad.  I 
also  decided  that  I  would  not  try  to  get  subscribers  for 
anything  but  the  Masonic  history,  believing  that  it  would 
only  be  a  waste  of  time  to  do  so.  My  experience  had 
taught  me  that  the  agent  who  attempted  to  canvass,  at  the 
same  time,  for  five  or  six  different  works,  was  not  likely  to 
do  well  with  any  of  them.  The  best  way,  in  my  judg- 
ment, is  to  select  some  good  work,  and  give  all  one's 
efforts  to  that,  to  the  utter  exclusion  of  everything  else. 
Of  course,  a  reasonable  degree  of  sagacity  must  be  exer- 
cised in  the  selection  of  a  suitable  work  with  which  to 
travel ;  but  if  one  attempts  to  work  for  several  publica- 
tions at  the  same  time,  they  are  likely,  by  a  division  of 
their  exertions,  to  succeed  in  making  a  failure  with  all. 

Having  decided  to  visit  Lafayette,  I  called  upon  a  prom- 
inent Mason  of  Indianapolis,  and  asked  him  to  give  me  a 
letter  of  introduction  to  somebody,  in  that  place,  who 
would  be  likely  to  extend  to  me  some  aid  in  introducing 
the  work.  He  very  readily  and  cheerfully  complied  with 
my  request,  and  gave  me  letters  to  sever-al  parties  there. 
Perhaps  there  is  no  more  suitable  opportunity  than  this, 
to  acknowledge  the  obligations  I  am  under  to  the  Masonic 
fraternity,  as  a  body,  for  the  kindness  and  assistance  they 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  335 

have  invariably  rendered  me  in  selling  this  work.  It  has 
been  my  usual  custom,  upon  visiting  any  place  for  the 
first  time,  to  call  upon  some  prominent  member,  or  mem- 
bers, of  the  fraternity,  for  lists  of  names  to  guide  me  in  my 
canvassing;  and  again,  upon  leaving  for  another  place,  to 
ask  for  letters  of  introduction  to  some  leading  member  of 
the  Order  in  the  place  whither  I  was  going;  and  in  no 
solitary  instance  has  compliance  with  these  requests  been 
refused;  and  the  assistance,  thus  rendered,  has  been  inval- 
uable to  me,  and  will  be  ever  most  gratefully  remembered; 
and  I  desire  here  to  return  my  heartfelt  thanks,  not  only 
to  each  and  every  one  of  the  members  of  that  ancient  and 
honorable  Order,  for  the  uniform  kindness  and  courtesy 
with  which  they  have  treated  me,  but  especially  to  those 
who  have  assisted  me  in  the  manner  above  indicated. 
May  their  kindness  be  returned  to  them  a  thousand  fold. 
In  due  time  I  arrived  in  La  Fayette,  and  at  once  called 
upon  one  of  the  gentlemen  to  whom  I  had  received  a  let- 
ter of  introduction.  He  treated  nie  with  the  kindness 
which  has  always  marked  the  conduct  of  the  fraternity 
toward  me,  bought  a  book,  and  introduced  me  to  several 
other  gentlemen,  all  of  whom  purchased  books.  I  sold 
five  or  six  copies  there,  and  having  thus  sown  seed 
which  I  hoped  would,  in  time,  bear  abundant  fruit,  I  de- 
cided to  leave  La  Fayette,  a  short  time,  go  up  to  Delphi 
and  Logansport,  see  what  could  be  done  there,  and  return 
to  La  Fayette  again  on  my  way  to  Indianapolis.  This 
trip  was  the  poorest  which  ever  occurred  in  all  my  expe- 
rience as  a  book  agent.  I  was  absent  some  three  days 
from  La  Fayette,  and  did  not  sell  a  single  copy  of  the 
work  during  the  whole  time.  The  Masons,  in  all  the 
places  visited  by  me,  seemed  more  dead  than  alive — more 
intent  on  making  money  than  acquainting  themselves  with 


336  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

the  history  and  origin  of  their  order — more  devoted  to  the 
worship  of  Mammon,  than  to  the  cultivation  of  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  science  of  which  this  fraternity  claims  to  be 
one  of  the  principal  exponents.  There  was  among  them 
a  state  of  coldness  and  indifference  to  the  good  of  the 
Order,  which  I  have  very  rarely  found.  May  they  arouse 
from  their  lethargy  in  time  to  prevent  their  everlasting 
dissolution  as  an  order. 

The  same  feeling  prevailed  to  a  considerable  extent, 
though  in  not  quite  so  great  a  degree, at  La  Fayette;  and 
I  became  convinced  that,  for  the  present,  at  least,  I  could 
not  do  enough  there  to  pay  expenses.  My  trip  had  al- 
ready cost  me  much  more  than  the  profits  realized  from 
it,  and,  under  such  circumstances,  it  was  worse  than  folly 
to  extend  my  stay  in  the  place.  I  therefore  packed  up 
my  "  traps "  and  returned  home,  fully  resolved  never  to 
canvass  along  the  line  of  the  Wabash  Valley  Railroad,  or, 
it  least,  until  there  was  some  evidence  of  more  vitality 
^mong  the  Masons  there. 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK    AGENT.  337 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Upon  my  return  to  Indianapolis,  I  decided  to  change 
my  plan  of  operations,  for  a  time.  I  had  been  traveling 
constantly  since  entering  upon  the  duties  of  a  book  agent, 
was  weary  and  somewhat  worn  down,  and  needed  some 
rest.  The  plan  adopted,  for  a  time,  was  this — to  adver- 
tise for  agents  to  canvass  in  my  field,  while  I  would  sup- 
ply them  with  the  work,  as  a  sort  of  general  agent,  and 
would  take  a  class  in  my  old  occupation — that  of  teach- 
ing painting.  Accordingly,  I  resumed  the  agency  of  two 
or  three  works,  which  I  had  discarded;  obtained  one  or 
two  others,  so  as  to  be  able  to  supply  my  agents  with  any 
thing  they  might  desire;  obtained  a  suitable  room  in  which 
to  receive  my  pupils,  and  advertised  in  several  of  the  lead- 
ing papers,  throughout  the  State,  for  agents.  I  also  in- 
serted advertisements  for  pupils,  in  all  the  papers  of  the 
city,  and  commenced  reviewing  and  furbishing  up  my 
artistic  qualities. 

Applications  for  employment,  as  agents,  were  soon  very 
numerous,  and  in  a  few  weeks  I  had  no  less  than  a  dozen 
agents  at  work  for  me,  in  different  parts  of  the  State.  The 
works  with  which  they  were  furnished  were  all  that  I  had 
ever  canvassed  for,  with  the  addition  of  a  most  beautiful 
little  book  for  the  juvenile  portion  of  the  community,  enti- 
tled "The  Children's  Album."  I  do  not  think  I  have 
ever  known  a  work  more  interesting,  or  more  beneficial, 
to  be  put  in  the  hands  of  the  rising  generation.  I  charge 
the  publishers  nothing  for  this  notice  of  their  work,  for  it 
22 


338  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

merits  all  and  more  than  can  be  said  in  its  favor  by  so 
poor  a  pen  as  mine. 

While  making  and  perfecting  these  arrangements,  the 
other  branch  of  business  marked  out  for  myself  had  not 
been  neglected.  Applications  for  admission  to  my  school 
of  painting  had  poured  in  upon  me,  and  my  class  was 
soon  as  large  as  my  rooms  would  allow  me  to  accommo- 
date, and  several  applicants  had  been  refused  admission 
for  want  of  room.  And  so  assiduously  had  I  practiced 
my  art  that  I  found  myself  qualified  to  impart  instruction, 
not  only  to  their  entire  satisfaction,  but,  what  was  much 
better,  to  my  own.  And  thus  matters  went  on  swim- 
mingly, and,  for  a  time,  I  succeeded  better,  pecuniarily, 
than  I  had  at  any  time  since  starting  as  a  book  agent. 
But  my  expenses  wore  very  heavy,  and  I  did  not  lay  up 
mx)ney  very  fast.  Aside  from  my  ordinary  expenses  of 
every-day  life,  the  extensive  litigation  I  was  conducting, 
both  at  Indianapolis  and  Atlanta,  was  a  constant  drain 
on  my  finances,  and  kept  me  at  rather  a  low  ebb.  There 
were  constant  applications  from  my  counsel  for  money 
for  some  purpose  or  other — now,  five  dollars  to  pay  for 
a  certified  copy  of  some  old  deed  or  other;  then  ten  or 
fifteen  dollars  to  pay  for  taking  depositions ;  again  ten  dol- 
lars would  be  wanted  for  searching  some  record  at  Wash- 
ington, and  so  it  went  on.  I  was  making  money  fast,  and, 
had  it  not  been  for  these  constant  demands  upon  my 
purse,  could  have  accumulated  some  property,  but  it  would 
take  a  princely  income  to  stand  these  prodigious  drains 
upon  it.  But  I  looked  forward  with  hope  to  the  time 
when  it  would  all  be  at  an  end,  and  the  money  I  was  now 
forced  to  expend  for  these  objects  would  be  saved  to  me, 
when  better  times  musf  certainly  ensue. 

About  this  time  I  had  an  operation  performed  on  my 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  339 

left  eye,  which  had  been  affected  from  my  birth.  It  turned 
outwardly,  and,  aside  from  its  disfiguring  effect  upon  my 
countenance,  it  was,  at  times,  a  source  of  considerable  an- 
noyance to  me,  and  not  a  little  interfered  with  my  sight. 
There  was  a  professional  oculist  in  the  city,  by  the  name 
of  Dr.  Charles  Wall,  who  sustained  a  very  high  name  in 
his  profession,  and  who  had  published  some  certificates  of 
very  remarkable  cures  performed  under  his  treatment ;  and 
I  had  myself  known  of  several  very  bad  cases  of  "  cross 
eyes  "  which  he  had  treated  with  the  utmost  success.  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  apply  to  him  for  relief  from  my  afflic- 
tion, and,  accordingl)^,  called  at  his  office  and  asked  him 
if  he  could  straighten  my  eye.  He  examined  it,  asked  me 
some  questions  about  it,  and  said  he  could  cure  it  by  per- 
forming a  surgical  operation  upon  it.  I  told  him,  if  it  was 
to  be  operated  upon,  I  would  like  to  have  some  friend  pres- 
ent at  the  time,  and  he  replied  that  he  would  like  to  have 
some  medical  gentleman  witness  the  operation,  and  that, 
if  it  suited  me,  he  would  perform  it  at  ten  o'clock  the  next 
day.  I  told  him  that  Dr.  Athon  and  Dr.  Barnes  were 
friends  of  mine,  and  that,  if  he  had  no  objections,  I  would 
bring  them  with  me  at  that  time ;  to  which  he  very  readily 
assented,  saying  it  was  just  what  he  would  have  desired. 
At  the  appointed  time  the  next  morning.  Dr.  Athon,  Dr. 
Barnes  and  myself,  went  to  Dr.  Wall's  office,  No.  21  West 
Maryland  street,  and  I  took  my  seat  in  the  operating 
chair.  The  doctors  wanted  me  to  take  chloroform,  or  some 
other  anaesthetic  agent;  but  this  I  refused  to  do,  feeling 
assured  that  my  courage  and  nerve  were  sufficient  to  en- 
dure the  operation,  and  wishing  to  see  all  that  was  done, 
especially  as  I  was  myself  to  be  the  victim.  Well,  I  had 
my  own  way,  and  the  operation  was  performed  while  I  was 
in  my  natural  state ;  nor  would  I  even  suffer  any  one  to 


340  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

hold  my  hands  or  head.  The  operation  was  short,  and 
much  less  painful  than  I  had  anticipated,  but  still  very- 
unpleasant. 

I  immediately  returned  to  my  boarding-house,  and,  for 
half  an  hour  or  so,  experienced  no  uneasiness  from  the  cut- 
ting of  my  eye:  then  suddenly  began  a  sharp  pain  in  the 
eye-ball,  which  continued  all  day  and  all  night,  and  gave 
me  no  little  alarm,  lest  it  should  involve  the  loss  of  sight 
in  that  eye.  When  I  arose  the  next  morning,  and  looked 
in  the  glass,  I  found  that  quite  a  large  lump  had  grown  up 
on  my  eye  where  he  had  cut  it ;  and,  still  more  alarmed 
than  ever,  I  hastened  as  early  as  I  could  to  Dr.  Wall's 
office.  He  smiled  at  my  fears,  and  told  me  the  lump  would 
all  disappear  in  a  short  time ;  that  it  was  but  the  natural 
result  of  the  operation,  and  need  give  me  no  uneasiness. 
He  gave  me  some  eye-water,  and  a  small  brush  to  apply  it 
with,  and  I  went  away,  feeling  very  much  relieved ;  for  I 
had  the  utmost  conlfidence  in  his  skill  and  ability. 

As  I  shall  not  recur  to  this  subject  again,  I  may  remark 
here  that  my  expectations  of  benefit  from  this  operation 
have  been  but  partially  realized,  and  that,  though  I  paid 
Dr.  Wall  a  very  liberal  fee  for  performing  the  operation, 
my  eye  has  really  received  but  very  little  benefit  from  it. 
It  is  better  than  when  I  went  to  him,  but  still  far  from  per- 
fect, as  will  be  apparent  to  any  one  who  will  examine  the 
portrait  which  forms  the  frontispiece  of  the  work.  Still,  I 
do  not  condemn  the  doctor,  for,  I  doubt  not,  he  is  well- 
skilled  in  diseases  of  the  eye ;  though,  in  my  own  case,  his 
success  was  not  so  decided  as  I  hoped,  and  had  been  led 
by  him  to  expect. 

Finding  that  the  condition  of  my  eye  interfered  some- 
what with  my  convenience  and  success  as  a  teacher  of 
painting,  I  concluded  to  give  up  my  class  for  a  time,  and 


THE    LIFE    OP   A   BOOK   AGENT.  34] 

resume  my  travels,  at  least  until  my  eye  should  be  fully 
recovered  from  the  effects  of  the  recent  operation.  Before 
setting  out,  however,  I  wanted  to  learn  the  art  of  cutting 
dresses  by  a  new  method,  and  connect  that  with  my  book 
agency,  believing  it  would  be  a  source  of  considerable 
profit  to  me.  I  accordingly  went  to  a  Mrs.  S.  C.  Ewing, 
and  applied  for  instruction  in  the  coveted  art.  She  charged 
twelve  dollars  for  giving  lessons,  which  was  more  money 
than  I  really  knew  how  to  spare;  but  I  had  a  painting, 
worth  fifteen  dollars,  which  I  proposed  to  give  her  for  my 
course  of  instruction,  and  she  accepted  my  offer.  The  art 
was  very  easy  to  acquire,  and  in  one  day  I  could  cut  and 
fit  dresses,  by  this  mode,  as  well  as  Mrs.  Ewing  herself 

With  my  books  and  some  charts,  I  then  started  out,  not 
doubting  I  should  do  well ;  but,  as  I  soon  found,  and  as  the 
reader  will  soon  see,  the  result  did  not  equal  my  anticipa- 
tions ;  and  I  found,  upon  this  trip,  another  illustration  of 
the  truth  of  the  proposition  I  advanced  some  time  since: 
that  the  book  agent  whose  exertions  are  divided  among 
several  things,  is  not  likely  to  succeed  well  with  anything. 

Upon  leaving  Indianapolis  I  went  at  once  to  Lebanon, 
the  county  seat  of  Boone  county.  It  was  just  about  dark 
when  I  arrived  there,  and,  of  course,  nothing  could  be  done 
that  night.  I  went  to  the  Andrews'  House  for  the  night, 
wading  through  mud  nearly  a  foot  deep  to  get  there,  for  it 
had  been  raining  several  days,  and  the  streets  were  almost 
impassable.  The  next  morning  I  went  to  a  printing  ofiice 
and  engaged  one  hundred  small  circulars  to  be  printed  and 
distributed,  setting  forth  the  value  of  my  new  system  of  cut- 
ting dresses,  and  went  out  to  canvass  for  "The  History  of 
Freemasonry  "  while  they  were  being  circulated,  for  I  had 
brought  ten  copies  of  the  work  with  me.  I  visited  all  the 
business  places  in  Lebanon,  during  the  forenoon,  and  sue- 


342  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

ceeded  in  selling  three  copies  of  the  book,  which,  I  think, 
was  doing  very  well,  considering  the  size  of  the  town. 

By  this  time  my  advertisements  had  been  distributed, 
and,  after  eating  a  hearty  dinner,  I  set  out  to  see  what 
could  be  done  with  my  charts.  Of  course,  my  calls  were 
now  made  upon  the  ladies,  at  their  houses,  instead  of  at 
the  business  places.  At  the  first  house  at  which  I  called, 
the  following  conversation  ensued: 

"  Good  morning,  madam.  I  am  selling  charts  for  a  new 
mode  of  cutting  dresses — the  most  perfect  thing  of  the 
kind  I  ever  saw — and  teaching  the  use  of  them.  Would 
you  like  to  learn  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  do  n't  know  whether  it  would  be  of  much 
benefit  to  me  or  not.  I  generally  have  my  dresses  cut  by 
a  dressmaker." 

"  But,  by  the  use  of  this,  you  can  cut  and  fit  your  own 
dresses,  and  thus  save  trouble  and  expense." 

"There  are  so  many  humbugs,  now-a-days,  that  one 
hardly  knows  what  or  whom  to  trust;  and  I  believe  I  will 
not  have  anything  to  do  with  it." 

"  But,  madam,  you  can  see  for  yourself  that  this  is  no 
humbug.  It  is  so  simple  and  plain  that  any  one  can  un- 
derstand it,  and  so  certain  in  its  results  that  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  make  a  mistake,  or  have  an  ill-fitting  dress. 
I  am  very  sure  you  would  like  it." 

"Well,"  said  she,  after  examining  it  some  time,  "I  do 
like  its  appearance,  and  would  like  to  learn ;  but,  to  tell 
the  truth,  I  have  not  got  the  money." 

"  Well,  madam,  I  shall  be  in  town  for  several  days — it 
may  be  for  a  week — and  if  you  will  board  me  while  I  stay 
here,  I  will  teach  you  the  art,  and  furnish  you  with  a 
chart." 

"  How  long  will  you  be  here  ?  " 


THE    LIFE    OF    A   BOOK   AGENT.  343 

"I  can  not  tell  exactly.  Until  I  have  canvassed  the 
whole  of  the  town.  It  may  be  two  or  three  days,  or  it 
may  be  a  week;  though  probably  not  so  long." 

"Upon  those  terms  I  will  take  lessons.  You  can  come 
here  at  any  time  you  choose." 

I  at  once  sat  down,  gave  her  a  lesson,  and  explained 
the  use  of  the  chart  to  her ;  then  sent  to  the  Andrews' 
House  for  my  baggage,  and  again  set  out  upon  my  can- 
vassing. I  felt  very  well,  for  I  had  made  a  beginning ; 
the  lady,  whose  name  I  had  obtained,  was  one  of  the  lead- 
ers in  the  little  social  circle  of  the  place,  and  I  felt  no 
doubt  her  influence  would  aid  me  in  the  prosecution  of 
my  work;  and  the  result  showed  that  I  was  not  mistaken. 

At  the  next  house,  the  lady  was  very  cold  and  distant; 
did  not  care  about  looking  at  my  charts,  or  hearing  my 
explanations;  but  as  soon  as  I  told  her  that  Mrs.  Dr. 
M'Cloud  (the  lady  with  whom  I  was  stopping)  was  learn- 
ing, as  was  also  Mrs.  Andrews,  at  the  hotel,  her  whole 
manner  changed,  and  she  at  once  manifested  the  utmost 
interest  in  it.  She  finally  concluded  she  very  much 
wanted  to  learn,  but  would  not  subscribe  until  she  con- 
sulted with  her  husband,  who  would  not  be  at  home  until 
tea-time.  Could  I  call  again,  in  the  evening,  or  the  next 
morning?  Certainly;  I  would  call  the  next  morning, 
and  hoped  to  be  honored  with  her  patronage.  With 
this  assurance  I  left  her,  receiving  from  her  a  parting  in- 
junction to  call  the  next  day;  and  I  may  remark  here, 
that  this  injunction  was  cheerfully  and  faithfully  obeyed, 
and  that  I  added  her  name  to  my  list  of  subscribers. 
Such  is  the  result  and  power  of  rank  and  fashion !  Had 
not  Mrs.  Dr.  M'Cloud  become  a  subscriber,  this  lady 
would  not ;  and,  doubtless,  the  same  remark  will  apply  to 
every  lady  whose  name  I  procured  in  Lebanon.     Fashion- 


344 

able  society,  in  Lebanon,  as  elsewhere,  is  very  much  like 
a  flock  of  sheep;  they  will  stand  huddled  together,  uncer- 
tain what  to  do,  until  some  one,  wdth  more  decision  than 
the  others,  makes  a  break  in  some  particular  direction, 
when,  pell-mell,  away  go  the  whole  herd,  following  closely 
in  the  tracks  of  their  leader,  without  the  least  regard  for 
consequences.  This  gregarious  disposition  of  the  human 
race  has  been  of  immense  service  to  me  in  many  instances 
besides  the  one  'above  mentioned. 

I  canvassed  the  remainder  of  the  day,  and  at  night  had 
four  ladies  engaged  to  learn  dress-cutting,  beside  several 
others  who,  like  my  friend  above  mentioned,  wanted  to 
consult  their  husbands  about  the  matter  before  incurring 
any  expense ;  and  I  found  that,  in  every  instance  of  the 
kind,  the  promise  to  consult  "husband"  was  equivalent  to 
a  promise  to  subscribe;  thus  proving  to  my  mind  either 
that  the  ladies  in  Lebanon  have  very  kind  and  indulgent 
husbands,  or  that  they  have  the  art  of  governing  their 
liege  lords  more  skillfully  and  successfully  than  their  sis- 
ters in  some  other  parts  of  the  world  of  which  I  have  some 
knowledge. 

I  remained  in  Lebanon  about  a  week,  and  finding  that 
my  work  there  was  practically  done,  and  that  no  more 
money  was  to  be  made  there,  I  went  to  Thorn  town,  in  the 
same  county.  I  had  done  very  well  in  Lebanon,  but  was 
destined  to  fare  still  better  in  the  place  to  which  I  had 
now  come,  owing,  in  part,  to  the  spirit  of  rivalry  existing 
between  the  two  towns,  in  which  the  ladies  of  each  bore 
their  full  share ;  for  no  sooner  did  I  exhibit  to  the  ladies 
of  Thorntown  the  list  of  names  I  had  obtained  at  Leba- 
non, than  they,  at  once,  said  Lebanon  should  not  go  ahead 
of  them  in  anything  pertaining  to  the  world  of  fashion, 
and  I  soon  had  all  I  could  do.     This  rivalry  seemed  very 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  345 

foolish  to  me,  but  as  long  as  I  was  reaping  the  benefits  of 
it,  I  was  not  disposed  to  utter  any  complaints,  or  attempt 
to  quell  it. 

I  remained  in  Thorntown  three  days,  sold  Rye  copies  of 
Masonic  history,  disposed  of  a  large  number  of  charts, 
and  instructed  several  ladies  in  the  art  of  cutting  their 
own  dresses,  when  I  left  there  and  went  to  Attica.  Here 
I  fared  the  poorest,  for  some  time,  that  I  had  any  where  on 
my  present  trip.  For  two  days  I  labored  faithfully ;  but 
could  not  get  any  one  either  to  buy  a  book  or  to  patronize 
the  new  mode  of  cutting  dresses.  Meantime  my  bill  at 
the  Revere  House,  where  I  stopped,  was  accumulating,  at 
the  rate  of  three  dollars  a  day,  while  I  was  earning 
nothing  at  all;  and  I  was  fast  becoming  disheartened. 
The  people  all  seemed  as  poor  as  Job's  turkey,  or  as 
stingy  as  a  miser,  I  could  not  tell  which,  and  I  was  al- 
most tempted  to  give  up  in  despair  and  leave  the  place, 
though  it  was  very  much  against  both  inclination  and 
principle  to  give  up  without  doing  anything.  After  re- 
flecting some  time  upon  the  matter,  I  concluded  to  stay 
one  day  longer,  visit  some  of  the  places  I  had  visited 
already,  and  make  one  more  effort  to  penetrate  the  crust 
in  which  they  had  intrenched  themselves.  There  was  a 
Mrs.  Rodgers,  who  lived  in  a  fine  stone  house,  and  seemed 
to  be  a  sort  of  leader  among  the  to7i,  and,  though  I  had 
already  called  upon  her  once,  I  determined  to  go  there 
again,  and  try  to  make  the  same  arrangement  with  her 
that  I  had  with  Mrs.  M'Cloud,  upon  going  to  Lebanon.  I 
could  not  afford  to  stay  there  any  longer,  and  pay  three 
dollars  a  day  for  my  board,  while  doing  nothing;  but  if  I 
could  get  to  stay  a  week  with  Mrs.  Rodgers,  and  pay  my 
way  by  giving  her  instruction  and  selling  her  a  chart,  I 


346  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

could  afford  that.  Beside,  I  would  then  be  able  to  say 
I  had  made  one  sale  in  the  great  city  of  Attica. 

Accordingly,  the  next  day  I  called,  for  the  second  time, 
upon  Mrs.  Rodgers,  at  the  stone  mansion.  She  received 
me  quite  coolly,  and  seemed,  for  a  time,  very  much  disin- 
clined to  even  talk  about  receiving  instruction ;  but  I  per- 
severed, and  finally  made  her  the  same  proposition  which 
had  succeeded  so  well  with  Mrs.  M'Cloud.  At  this  she 
seemed  to  relent  a  little,  and  we  finally  made  the  same 
arrangement — I  was  to  board  with  her  during  my  stay 
there,  be  it  longer  or  shorter,  and,  in  return,  was  to  teach 
her  the  art,  and  furnish  her  with  a  chart.  In  pursuance 
of  this  arrangement,  my  baggage  was  removed  to  her 
bouse  that  very  morning;  and  I  went  to  work,  with  re- 
newed zeal,  feeling  that  the  crust  was  now  penetrated, 
and  that  I  might  hope  for  some  degree  of  success. 

And  I  was  not  disappointed.  The  gregarious  nature  of 
fashionable  society,  as  at  Lebanon,  was  my  very  good  friend. 
I  told  every  lady  upon  whom  I  called  that  Mrs.  Rodgers 
was  learning  of  me — a  furore  was  created  upon  the  sub- 
ject, and  in  two  days  I  had  all  the  applicants  for  instruc- 
tion that  could  possibly  be  attended  to  by  working  early 
and  late.  I  was  more  than  gratified — I  was  delighted  at 
the  result  of  my  tactics ;  and  had  learned  that,  to  succeed 
anywhere,  it  was  only  necessary  to  get  some  leader  of 
fashion  interested  in  my  work.  Such  is  the  influence  and 
importance  which  attaches  to  a  single  name ;  and  I  determ- 
ined that,  hereafter,  wherever  I  might  go  to  work,  I 
would  adopt  the  same  plan,  which  had  succeeded  so  well 
here.  If,  by  its  use,  I  could  make  sales  in  the  town  of 
Attica,  surely  I  need  have  no  misgivings  about  trying  it 
any  where  else.     Anything  which  would  break  through 


THE    LIFE    OP    A   BOOK   AGENT.  347 

the  crust  there,  would  penetrate  any  shell,  however  old 
or  firmly  formed. 

I  remained  in  Attica  a  little  over  a  week,  and,  upon 
leaving  the  place,  found  that  I  had  made  more  money 
than  at  Lebanon  and  Thorntown  both,  notwithstanding 
the  discouraging  prospects  of  the  first  two  days.  So 
much  for  society  being  like  a  flock  of  sheep. 

From  Attica  I  went  to  Danville,  Illinois,  and  at  once 
entered  upon  a  very  good  course  of  business,  having  had 
much  less  trouble  in  effecting  a  start  there  than  at  any 
other  place  visited  on  my  present  journey — the  people 
there  seeming  much  more  inclined  to  patronize  a  travel- 
ing agent,  than  in  Indiana.  They  seemed  less  inclined  to 
suspect  the  honesty  and  motives  of  a  stranger  than  the 
Hoosiers,  and  to  realize  more  readily  the  value  of  the 
articles  I  was  offering  for  sale. 

But  my  stay  there  was  destined  to  be  of  short  duration. 
Just  in  the  midst  of  my  career  of  prosperity,  a  letter 
arrived  from  my  attorneys,  informing  me  that  my  presence 
was  very  urgently  and  imperatively  necessary  in  Indi- 
anapolis, in  connection  with  my  suit  for  a  divorce.  Of 
course,  it  was  very  unpleasant  to  leave  my  present  loca- 
tion while  business  was  so  flourishing;  but  the  affair  at 
Indianapolis  was  of  paramount  importance,  and  such  a 
summons  must  not  be  neglected;  and,  accordingly,  I  packed 
up  my  things,  left  my  business  there  in  the  hands  of  an 
agent  who  had  been  appointed  and  fully  instructed  by  me, 
and  hastened  homeward  by  the  most  direct  and  expedi- 
tious route.  Upon  reaching  Indianapolis,  I  found,  how- 
ever, that  my  presence  might  just  as  well  have  been  dis- 
pensed with  as  not,  had  it  only  been  known  in  time ;  for, 
owing  to  an  unexpected  decision  of  the  Court,  we  would 
be  compelled  to  postpone  the  case  until  another  term. 


348  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

My  counsel  were  not  to  blame  for  this  delay,  for  it  was 
a  matter  which  they  could  not  foresee,  but  it  was  none 
the  less  a  most  bitter  disappointment  to  me,  for  I  had 
counted  upon  closing  up  that  affair  at  the  present  time, 
and  then  I  would  be  free  to  return  to  the  South,  and  at- 
tend closely  to  the  prosecution  of  my  claim  for  the  resti- 
tution of  my  brother's  property.  This  I  did  not  wish  to 
do  so  long  as  affairs  were  in  such  a  shape  that  Frank 
Nelles  could  claim  any  part  of  the  property  which  I  might 
recover ;  and  hence  the  delay  was  very  annoying  to  me, 
beside  involving  considerable  expense,  which  I  was  but 
illy  able  to  afford.  But  there  was  no  help  for  it,  and 
nothing  for  me  to  do  save  to  go  to  work  again  to  raise 
the  funds  necessary  to  meet  these  demands  upon  my 
purse. 

And  these  demands  had  recently  been  increased  by  my 
own  action.  The  reader  will  remember  that  Carrie  was 
with  a  relative  of  Captain  Lake's,  in  New  Orleans,  whither 
he  had  sent  her  to  be  raised  and  educated.  I  had  not 
seen  her  for  a  long  time,  and  my  heart  yearned  to  clasp 
the  little  darling  to  my  bosom  once  more.  She  was  all  I 
had  to  live  for,  or  to  love;  and  my  business  had  pros- 
pered so  as  to  enable  me  to  support  her  by  my  own  exer- 
tions, and,  accordingly,  I  sent  for  her.  The  friends  with 
whom  she  was  staying,  were  very  much  opposed  to  her 
coming,  but  my  claim  upon  her  was  stronger  than  theirs. 
She  wanted  to  come  to  "mamma,"  and  they  finally  yielded, 
and  sent  her  to  me.  She  arrived  in  safety,  and  the  fond 
mother  who  has  been  for  a  long  time  separated  from  a 
dearly-loved  child,  can  imagine  the  pleasure  with  which  I 
once  more  held  in  my  arms  the  darling  little  one  who, 
though  no  relative  to  me,  had  still  become  as  dear  to  me 
as  though  of  my  own  flesh  and  blood. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  349 

Besides  Carrie,  I  had  another  little,  helpless  being  de- 
pendent upon  me  for  support.  I  have  already  mentioned 
my  intention  to  adopt  a  little  boy  as  a  playmate  for  Car- 
rie. Some  time  had  elapsed  since  that  resolution  was 
formed,  and  I  had  met  with  no  opportunity  to  obtain  a 
child  whose  appearance  pleased  me.  But,  visiting  one 
day  the  county  asylum  for  the  poor,  I  saw  just  the  boy  I 
wanted.  He  was  an  orphan,  with  no  friends  to  care  for 
him ;  his  father  had  been  a  brave  soldier  in  defense  of  his 
country,  in  the  hour  of  peril,  and  had  died  in  the  battle 
of  Five  Forks,  just  as  final  victory  was  perching  upon  the 
National  Banner ;  his  mother,  a  frail,  delicate  woman,  had 
survived  the  shock  of  her  husband's  violent  death  but  a 
few  weeks,  and  he  was  thus  left  alone  in  this  cold,  wide, 
unfriendly  world.  He  was  just  about  Carrie's  age,  about 
five  years;  while  his  light,  curly  hair,  deep,  earnest,  blue 
eyes,  and  finely  molded  features,  sufficiently  resembled 
hers  to  warrant  me  in  calling  them  brother  and  sister.  I 
accordingly  took  him  from  the  asylum,  and  by  order  of 
the  Court  of  Common  Pleas  of  Marion  County,  formally 
adopted  him  as  my  own  child,  and  presented  him  to  Car- 
rie as  her  little  brother.  She  had  still  some  recollection 
of  the  brothers  she  had  lost,  and  her  little  heart  was  de- 
lighted beyond  measure  at  the  restoration  of  one  of  them 
to  her.  They  are  as  happy  together  as  it  is  possible  for 
children  to  be,  and  my  heart  throbs  with  all  a  mother's 
pride,  as  I  gaze  upon  my  beauties ;  for  though  they 
are  really  no  relation  to  me,  they  are  as  dear  to  me  as 
they  could  possibly  be,  were  they  of  my  own  flesh  and 
blood. 

But,  of  course,  I  could  not.  support  them  in  idleness,  and 
I  must  at  once  go  to  work  to  provide  the  means  for  their 
sustenance  and  education.     My  first  care  was  to  find  a 


350 

good  boarding-school  for  children,  at  which  I  could  be  cer- 
tain they  would  be  properly  cared  for,  and  receive  such 
attention  and  education  as  was  necessary  and  suitable  for 
children  of  that  age.  After  some  trouble,  I  found  a  loca- 
tion which  I  thought  possessed  all  the  requirements  which 
my  jealous  care  of  their  mental  and  moral  necessities  de- 
manded, and  arrangements  were  soon  made  for  their  recep- 
tion by  the  matron  of  the  establishment.  And  it  aifords 
me  pleasure  to  say  here  that  it  would  have  been  simply  im- 
possible that  my  selection  of  a  location  for  my  darlings 
could  have  been  more  fortunate;  for  the  lady,  in  whose 
charge  they  still  remain,  combines  within  herself  all  the 
elements  necessary  to  render  their  stay  with  her  both 
pleasant  and  profitable  to  them.  Of  large  and  extended 
experience  in  the  management  of  children;  tender  and 
kind,  but  firm  and  prudent  in  her  government;  she  brings 
to  the  discharge  of  the  important  duties  of  her  position,  a 
Christian  consciousness  of  the  weighty  responsibilities  de- 
volving upon  her,  and  a  devout,  prayerful  determination 
to  discharge  those  responsibilities  in  the  wisest  and  most 
beneficial  manner  for  the  interest  of  the  little  ones  under 
her  care.  Under  these  circumstances,  how  could  they  be 
otherwise  than  happy  and  properly  cared  for,  or  how  could 
they  be  better  situated,  so  long  as  it  is  necessary  for  them 
to  be  deprived  of  a  mother's  care?  And,  indeed,  I  am 
not  sure  but  they  are  better  off  with  Mrs.  — ^ —  than  they 
would  be  with  me. 

Having  concluded  this  arrangement  to  my  satisfaction, 
I  decided  to  visit  northern  Indiana,  and,  perhaps,  some 
parts  of  Illinois,  and  canvass  for  my  Masonic  history.  I 
bad  had  sufficient  experience  in  trying  to  work  for  two  or 
three  publications,  or  other  articles,  at  one  time,  and  my 
mind  was  fully  made  up  never  to  be  guilty  of  that  folly 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  351 

again.  So  long  as  I  continued  to  travel  and  canvass  as 
an  agent,  my  attention  should  not  be  divided  between  a 
half  dozen  different  objects,  and  I  be  thus  prevented  from 
doing  justice  to  any  of  them  or  to  myself. 


352 


ANNIE   NELLES  ;    OR, 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

My  present  destination  was  La  Porte,  Indiana,  where  I 
had  been  informed  the  Masonic  fraternity  were  quite  nu- 
merous, and  very  active,  and  where  I  hoped  to  sell  a  large 
number  of  books.  Before  starting,  however,  I  called  upon 
William  Hacker,  Esq.,  Secretary  of  the  grand  lodge  of  the 
State,  and  he  very  kindly  gave  me  a  letter  commending  the 
work  in  very  flattering  terms,  and  also  gave  me  letters  of 
introduction  to  several  prominent  members  of  the  fraternity 
there.  Armed  with  these  documents,  and  provided  with  a 
policy  of  insurance  against  the  accidents  oi  travel,  I  once 
more  committed  myself  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  Louis- 
ville, New  Albany  &  Chicago  Railroad  Company,  and  in 
due  time,  without  any  incidents  worthy  of  especial  note, 
reached  the  very  pleasant  town  for  which  I  had  set  out. 

Upon  reaching  La  Porte,  my  first  care  was  to  secure  a 
good  and  suitable  boarding-place  during  my  stay  there.  I 
was  fortunate  enough  to  find  a  good  room,  and  the  best  of 
accommodations,  in  a  house  kept  Mr.  C.  D.  Church,  (lately 
a  lieutenant  in  the  Union  army),  at  the  corner  of  Jackson 
and  Prairie  streets,  but  a  short  distance  from  the  main 
business  part  of  the  city,  and  at  once  made  arrangements 
with  the  gentlemanly  proprietor  for  remaining  there  so 
long  as  I  was  in  La  Porte. 

I  next  called  upon  Mr.  E.  G.  Hamilton,  to  whom  I  had 
a  letter  of  introduction,  and  had  a  long  conversation  with 
him  about  the  Masonic  fraternity,  and  the  prospects  of  suc- 
cess there.  I  found  Mr.  Hamilton  a  fine,  portly  gentle- 
man, rather  below  the   medium  hight,  somewhat  bald, 


THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK   AGENT.  363 

very  affable  and  polite,  but  with  a  peculiar  nasal  twang  or 
whine  in  his  voice,  to  listen  to  which  tried  my  risibilities 
sorely,  and  tempted  me  several  times  to  overstep  the 
bounds  of  the  politeness  which  he  was  so  continually  ex- 
emplifying before  me — not  from  any  want  of  respect  for 
him,  but  because  his  manner  was  simply  amusing  to  me. 
No  one  could  be  kinder  to  me  than  he  was,  and,  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart,  I  thank  him  therefor.  Indeed,  the 
fraternity  in  and  about  La  Porte  are  all  entitled  to  and  re- 
ceive my  heartiest  thanks  for  favors  received  at  their  hands. 

Mr.  Hamilton  informed  me  that  there  were  two  lodges 
in  the  city,  with  an  aggregate  membership  of  about  one 
hundred  and  forty;  that  both  lodges  were  in  a  flourishing 
condition,  and  rapidly  increasing  in  numbers ;  and  that  the 
interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  Order  had  never  before  been 
as  high,  in  La  Porte,  as  at  the  present  time.  Through  his 
instrumentality  I  formed  the  acquaintance  of  several  Ma- 
sans  of  great  prominence,  and  whose  virtues  and  devotion 
to  the  craft  have  already  given  them  high  positions  in  the 
Masonic  world ;  among  whom  may  be  mentioned  P.  D.  G. 
M.  John  B.  Fravel;  Dr.  G.  M.  Dakin,  W.  M.,  of  Excelsior 
Lodge;  P.  G.  Winn,  W.  M.,  of  La  Porte  Lodge;  E.  G.  Mc- 
Collum,  Esq.,  R.  A.  Hews,  Esq.,  and  many  others  whose 
names  it  were  useless  to  enumerate.  Mr.  Hamilton  him- 
self is  one  of  the  most  ardent  disciples  of  Masonry  I  have 
ever  met,  and,  though  of  but  little  more  than  two  years 
standing  in  the  Order,  has  already  penetrated  deeper  into 
its  arena  than  many  a  man  who  has  spent  a  long  life  in 
connection  with  the  mystic  brotherhood. 

He  gave  me  quite  a  list  of  names  of  men  who  he 

thought  would  be  likely  to  subscribe  for  the  work,  and  I 

set  out  upon  my  labors,  meeting,  in  almost  every  instance, 

with  the  most  gratifying  success.     Very  few,  indeed,  were 

23 


354  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

the  Masons  in  La  Porte,  whom  I  asked  in  vain  to  purchase 
a  work  which  so  well  portrayed  the  origin  and  principles 
of  their  order.  They  are  live  Masons  there,  and  every- 
thing which  tends  to  elucidate  the  benefits  of  their  insti- 
tution, and  its  claim  to  the  confidence  of  the  world,  they 
gladly  welcome. 

Of  course,  here,  as  elsewhere,  there  are  exceptions  to 
this  general  rule,  one  of  which  I  must  be  permitted  to 
mention.  In  the  office  of  a  friend,  who  was  furnishing  me 
a  more  extended  list  of  names  than  Mr.  Hamilton  had 
done,  I,  one  day,  met  and  was  introduced  to  a  Mr.  Walker 
—"Elder  Walker,"!  think  my  friend  called  him.  This 
prefix,  at  any  rate,  he  was  entitled  to,  having  been,  at  one 
time,  engaged  in  the  work  of  the  ministry,  though  now,  I 
believe,  not  laboring  in  that  field.  He  was  a  stout,  wiry 
old  man,  with  white  hair,  and  a  complexion  of  such  florid- 
ity  that,  but  for  his  well-known  character  of  sterling  mo- 
rality, and  his  intense  hatred  of  drunkenness  in  all  its 
forms,  he  might  be  almost  suspected  of  having,  at  some 
time  or  other,  tampered  too  much  with  "  the  worm  of  the 
still."  His  portly,  rotund  person,  indicative  of  good  living, 
terminated  in  a  pair  of  pedal  extremities  of  extraordinary 
size,  which  were  inclosed  in  most  hideously-squeaking 
cowhide  boots;  while  a  massive,  square  head  was  con- 
nected to  the  upper  extremity  of  the  trunk  by  a  short, 
thick  neck,  which  looked  as  though  it  might  safely  bid 
defiance  to  the  hangman's  rope,  even  if  the  Elder  should 
ever  be  brought  to  test  its  qualities — an  event  which  seems 
exceedingly  improbable.  His  form  was  very  erect,  his 
movements  quick  and  nervous,  and  an  air  of  the  most  su- 
preme satisfaction,  with  himself  and  the  rest  of  the"  world, 
pervaded  every  feature.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who 
constantly  annoy  you  by  assenting,  in  the  most  gracious 


THE    LIFE   OF   A   BOOK   AGENT^  355 

manner,  to  everything  you  say,  and,  at  the  same  time,  re- 
move all  pretext  for  anger  by  their  ready  compliance,  and 
against  whom  the  shafts  of  argument  or  sarcasm  are  as 
harmless,  and  glide  off  as  easily,  as  water  poured  from  a 
tin  dipper  upon  the  well-mailed  back  of  a  duck ;  and,  to 
crown  all,  he  enjoys  among  his  large  circle  of  acquaint- 
ances, by  whom  he  is  sincerely  respected,  the  reputation 
of  being  just  the  least  bit  of  a  "  bore." 

"  There,"  said  my  friend,  after  the  ceremony  of  intro- 
duction had  been  performed,  and  the  requisite  bows  had 
been  made,  "is  a  subject  for  your  art." 

"  Y-e-e-s,"  chimed  in  the  Elder,  "  I  am  a  very  proper 
subject  for  the  machinations  of  your  art.     What  is  it?" 

"  I  am  canvassing  for  ^  The  General  History  of  Freema- 
sonry in  Europe,'  and  would  like  to  sell  you  a  copy." 

" '  The  General  History  of  Freemasonry ! '  Well,  really, 
that  must  be  a  very  fine  thing,  and  a  work  which  ought 
to  be  in  the  hands  of  every  Mason  in  the  country,  espe- 
cially of  those  who  are  just  beginning  to  tread  the  thorny 
road  which  leads  to  the  flowery  repose  of  Masonic  peace 
and  happiness." 

I  was  quite  startled  by  this  somewhat  extraordinary 
poetical  display,  but  my  friend  seemed  to  take  it  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  and  I  returned  to  the  charge. 

"The  work  is  highly  recommended  by  prominent  Ma- 
sons in  all  parts  of  the  country,  and,  among  others,  by 
William  Hacker,  Grand  Secretary  of  the  Grand  Lodge  of 
the  State." 

"  It  is  ?  Why,  it  must  be  a  splendid  work !  Brother 
Hacker  is  a  good  man,  and  would  recommend  none  but  a 
work  of  sterling  merit  to  the  confidence  of  the  brother- 
hood, to  whose  service  he  has  earnestly  and  consistently 


356 

devoted  the  best  portion  of  a  long  and  well-spent  life.  And 
he  really  recommends  the  book,  does  he  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  I  have  a  letter  in  his  own  hand- writing,  re- 
commending it  in  the  highest  terms." 

"  I  want  to  know !  So  you  know  Brother  Hacker  ?  He 
is  a  splendid  man." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  am  acquainted  with  him." 

"  You  are  ?  And  he  has  recommended  this  work  in  a 
letter  composed  by  his  own  mighty  mind,  and  indited  by 
his  own  hand  ?  " 

"  I  have  said  so,  sir." 

"Yes,  yes;  I  know  you  have.  Have  you  the  letter 
with  you  ?  " 

"  It  is  in  my  trunk,  at  my  boarding-house.  I  can  show 
it  if  necessary." 

"  Yes.     Hum.     Where  do  you  board  ?  " 

"At  Mr.  Church's." 

"  What !     Lieutenant  Church." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Why !  he  is  a  good  man.  I  guess  he  keeps  a  good 
boarding-house,  and  ministers  to  the  necessities  of  the 
weary,  hungry,  and  way-worn  traveler  in  the  most  ap- 
proved manner.  I  never  stopped  at  his  house ;  but  have 
always  heard  that  character  ascribed  to  him,  by  his  pat- 
rons and  admirers,  whose  name  is  legion." 

"Yes,  he  keeps  a  very  good  house.  But  let  us  talk 
about  the  book." 

"Certainly.  Such  a  work  as  that;  from  the  pen, 
doubtless,  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  authors  and  phil- 
ologists the  world  has  ever  produced,  and  recommended 
by  a  man  of  such  gigantic  intellect,  such  sterling  in- 
tegrity, and  such  unquestioned  devotion  to  the  good 
of  Freemasonry,  as  Brother  William  Hacker,  Grand  Sec- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  357 

retary  of  the  Grand  Lodge  of  the  State  of  Indiana,  is 
worthy  of  being  the  theme  of  conversation  wherever  civ- 
ilized language  prevails,  as  long  as  the  sun  shall  roll  his 

ceaseless  rounds.     Why,  Brother ,"  turning  to  my 

friend,  "you  ought  to  purchase  a  copy  of  this  most  inval- 
uable work,  and  place  it  among  the  most  cherished  vol- 
umes of  your  family  library,  there  to  remain,  and  be  read 
and  admired  by  your  children  and  your  children's  children, 
down  to  the  seventieth  generation." 

"  But,"  said  I,  laughing  in  spite  of  myself,  at  this  rhap- 
sody, "he  has  already  bought  a  copy,' and  now  I  want  to 
sell  you  one." 

"  He  has !  Well,  he  has  done  just  right.  No  man,  in 
his  situation,  can  afford  to  be  without  it." 

"Then,  sir,  I  hope  you  will  take  one." 

"I  must  take  time  to  consider  of  the  subject,  madam. 
Men  very  often  get  themselves  into  almost  inextricable 
difficulties  by  acting  from  impulse  and  without  proper  re- 
flection. But,  in  the  first  place,  I  must  premise  that  my 
situation  and  that  of  my  friend  here  is  vastly  different. 
It  is  unnecessary  that  I  should  enlarge  upon  the  points  of 
difference  between  our  respective  positions — they  are  ap- 
parent at  a  glance.  But,  I  will  consider  of  the  subject, 
and  advise  you  of  my  conclusions." 

I  saw  that  it  was  useless  to  urge  the  subject  further, 
and  made  him  no  answer,  and  he  soon  after  withdrew.  I 
was  not  a  little  amused,  as  well  as  somewhat  disgusted,  at 
the  result  of  this  interview ;  but  my  friend  laughed  heart- 
ily at  my  discomfiture,  saying  it  was  no  more  than  he  an- 
ticipated ;  that  he  was  very  sure  "  the  Elder "  could  not 
be  induced  to  subscribe ;  and  that  he  had  introduced  him 
merely  for  the  purpose  of  getting  a  good  joke  on  me.  I 
thanked  him  for  his  kindness  (?),  and  promised  him  I 


358  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

would  be  even  with  him  some  day;  and  thus  the  matter 
ended. 

I  canvassed  in  La  Porte  about  a  week,  and  sold  some 
sixty  copies  of  the  work  there,  being  the  best  week's  Avork 
I  had  yet  done  since  I  became  a  book  agent.  I  also  vis- 
ited several  little  towns,  throughout  the  county,  and  sold 
quite  a  number  of  works  there.  My  trip,  thus  far,  had 
been  very  profitable,  and  I  was,  in  consequence,  very 
much  elated  in  spirits.  Surely,  at  the  rate  at  which  I 
was  making  money,  I  should  have  no  difficulty  in  pro- 
viding for  my  two  little  ones ;  and  they  were  all  I  had  to 
care  for  in  the  world.  If  God  would  mercifully  spare  my 
life,  and  protect  me  in  health  and  strength,  I  had  no  fears 
but  I  could  raise  them  comfortably,  and  in  a  manner  that 
would  render  them  a  credit,  not  only  to  me,  but  to  them- 
selves. 

But  my  work  in  La  Porte  was  done,  and  it  was  neces- 
sary for  me  to  seek  other  fields.  I  very  much  hated  to 
leave  this  place,  for  I  had  made  some  warm  friends  there 
— friends  who  will  dwell  in  my  memory,  and  whose  kind- 
ness will  not  be  forgotten,  so  long  as  my  life  is  spared  and 
reason  remains  an  inmate  of  my  soul — but  necessity  de- 
manded it,  and  it  is  an  old  adage  that  "  necessity  knows 
no  law."  Accordingly,  I  procured,  from  my  friends,  let- 
ters of  introduction  to  several  of  the  prominent  Masons 
of  South  Bend,  and  started  for  that  point,  where  I  arrived 
about  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  retired  to  rest 
for  the  night,  without  learning  much  about  the  town. 

The  next  morning  I  arose  early,  and  took  a  walk  before 
breakfast,  in  order  "  to  spy  out  the  land,"  and  decide  upon 
my  chances  for  success  there.  At  first  sight  I  did  not 
like  the  appearance  of  the  place  much,  and  was  almost 
tempted  to  go  on  without  trying  to  do  anything  there. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  359 

There  were  scarcely  any  side-walks  in  the  town,  and  what 
there  were,  were  in  a  sad  state  of  dilapidation ;  the  weather 
had  been  rainy  for  some  time,  and  the  streets  were  in 
anything  but  a  pleasant  condition  for  pedestrian  feats; 
many  of  the  business  houses  had  an  old,  tumble-down  ap- 
pearance, and  altogether  the  place  was  not,  at  first  view, 
calculated  to  inspire  any  great  love  in  the  mind  of  a 
stranger.  But  I  remembered  that  I  had  done  very  well 
in  places  of  no  more  promising  appearance  than  this,  and  I 
decided  to  try  to  do  something;  but,  at  the  same  time,  made 
up  my  mind  to  recommend  to  the  Mayor  and  Council  that 
they  do  something  to  improve  the  condition  of  their  streets 
and  side-walks,  and  to  suggest,  at  the  same  time,  that 
their  place  would  appear  much  more  attractive  in  the 
eyes  of  strangers  if  this  recommendation  were  complied 
with. 

Having  decided  to  remain  and  try  my  fortune  here  for 
a  short  time,  I  called  upon  several  of  the  parties  to  whom 
I  had  letters  of  introduction,  delivered  my  letters,  and  in- 
troduced my  work.  All  seemed  much  pleased  with  it, 
and  my  success  was  such  as  not  to  cause  the  least  regret 
that  I  had  decided  to  remain  there.  The  Order  seemed  to 
be  in  a  very  healthy,  flourishing  condition  there,  and  to 
be  composed  of  men  who  had  its  real  good  at  heart,  and 
were  more  interested  in  perfecting  themselves  in  a  knowl- 
edge of  its  mysteries,  than  in  merely  increasing  the  num- 
bers of  its  membership.  Among  such  men  my  success 
could  not  be  other  than  most  gratifying,  and  I  am  happy  to 
record  the  fact  that,  in  the  four  days  which  I  spent  there, 
I  sold  no  less  than  thirty-one  copies  of  my  favorite  work. 
Surely,  a  most  auspicious  result  in  a  town  of  such  un- 
promising appearance  as,  at  first  view,  to  almost  discour- 
age even  me,  in  spite  of  my  extensive  experience. 


360 

From  South  Bend  I  went  to  Mishawaka,  only  four  miles 
further  east,  and  found  it  a  very  pleasant  place — indeed, 
to  my  notion,  a  more  pleasant  place  than  South  Bend, 
though  the  latter  is  the  larger  town,  and  is  the  county 
seat  of  the  county.  There  seemed  to  me  to  be  much 
more  life  and  animation  in  Mishawaka,  and  more  business 
done,  than  in  South  Bend,  considering  the  size  of  the  two 
places ;  but  it  might  be  that  it  was  owing  in  part  to  the 
more  favorable  auspices  under  which  I  saw  Mishawaka. 
The  weather  was  magnificent  while  I  was  there,  and  the 
whole  town  was  clad  in  its  holiday  attire,  while  South 
Bend  was  in  mud  and  sorrow  when  I  saw  her  last. 

I  canvassed  Mishawaka  in  three  days,  selling  some- 
thing over  a  score  of  books,  but,  although  they  had  been 
ordered  sometime  before,  they  had  not  yet  come,  and,  of 
course,  until  they  arrived,  they  could  not  be  delivered;  so 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait  with  what  patience  I 
could  command  under  the  circumstances.  For  a  week  I 
remained  there  idle,  and  my  anxiety  to  be  at  work  mounted 
to  almost  fever  heat.  But  there  was  no  good  in  fretting. 
The  books  would  not  come  any  sooner  for  it,  and  the  only 
thing  in  my  power  was  to  amuse  myself  in  the  best  man- 
ner possible,  and  thus  pass  away  the  time  while  waiting. 
I  was  boarding  in  the  family  of  a  Mr.  Taylor,  a  very  nice, 
pleasant  place,  and  both  Mr.  Taylor  and  his  wife  were 
very  fond  of  fishing.  They  had  often  invited  me  to  join 
them  in  their  piscatorial  expeditions  along  the  banks  of 
the  silvery  St.  Joseph,  but  I  had  as  often  declined. 

But  at  length  time  grew  so  heavy  on  my  hands  that, 
one  "  bright  day  in  the  morning,"  I  decided  to  accept  their 
oft-repeated  invitation,  and  accompany  them.  Armed  with 
proper  tackle,  rods,  lines,  hooks,  bait,  etc.,  and  an  immense 
basket,  in  which  to  deposit  the  finny  spoils  of  the  deep 


THE   LIFE    OF    A   BOOK   AGENT.  361 

(river),  we  wended  our  way  to  a  pleasant  nook,  where  Mr. 
Taylor  assured  us  we  should  find  plenty  of  fish.  I  could 
not  bait  my  hook  myself,  but  Mr.  Taylor  affixed  the  tempt- 
ing morsel,  while  Mrs.  Taylor  performed  the  same  feat  for 
herself,  and  we  cast  in  our  lines,  nothing  doubting  (at 
least  I  did  not)  that  we  should  soon  be  blest  with  as  great 
an  abundance  of  fish  as  were  the  Apostles,  when,  at  the 
command  of  our  Savior,  they  cast  their  net  upon  the  right 
side  of  the  ship.  Soon  after  casting  in  her  line,  Mrs.  Tay- 
lor drew  it  again  to  the  surface,  and,  with  a  flourish  and  a 
"  whish,"  landed  a  fine  large  sunfish  upon  the  bank  just  back 
of  where  we  sat.  Again  she  put  in  her  hook,  and  again 
drew  it  forth,  and  this  time  a  noble  perch  was  dangling  at 
the  end  of  her  line.  Again  and  again  was  this  scene  re- 
peated— now  sunfish,  now  perch,  now  something  else — 
until  she  had  caught  five  or  six  fine  fellows,  and  her  hus- 
band nearly  as  many  more ;  but  I  had  not  had  a  solitary 
nibble.  I  was  getting  out  of  all  manner  of  patience,  when, 
suddenly,  I  felt  the  short,  quick  jerk  which  indicated  that 
a  fish  was  after  my  bait.  Trembling  with  eager  anxiety, 
I  drew  it  to  the  surface,  when,  lo !  a  gigantic  water-dog- 
made  his  appearance,  securely  hooked  to  my  line ;  but  how 
to  get  him  ojBT  was  the  question.  It  is  no  trouble  for 
me  to  eat  fish  when  they  are  nicely  prepared  for  the  table, 
but  the  idea  of  taking  hold  of  a  live  one — ugh !  it  makes 
me  shudder  even  to  this  day.  Several  times  I  tried  to 
muster  sufficient  courage  to  accomplish  this  feat,  but  each 
time  his  flopping  and  floundering  drove  me  away  demoral- 
ized, until  at  last  I  was  fain  to  give  it  up.  Mr.  Taylor  then 
came  to  my  assistance,  and  removed  the  monster,  baited 
my  hook  again,  and  again  I  committed  my  line  to  the 
pearly  deep.  Another  season  of  anxious  waiting  and 
watching,  another  nibble  at  my  line,  another  sharp  pull. 


362  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

and,  this  time,  I  brought  out  a  large  catfish.  I  tried  to 
take  him  off,  but  he  looked  so  much  worse  than  the  other, 
with  his  huge  goggle  eyes,  immense  mouth,  and  wicked- 
looking  horns,  that  he  frightened  me  more  than  the  other ; 
and  again  Mr.  Taylor  was  compelled  to  come  to  my  as- 
sistance. Once  more  I  tried  my  luck,  and,  this  time,  an- 
other water-dog  was  the  result  of  some  half  hour's  patient 
watching. 

By  this  time  the  sun  was  getting  high  in  the  heavens, 
and  it  was  time  for  us  to  return  home ;  so  we  proceeded  to 
enumerate  the  results  of  the  morning's  sport,  or  rather 
labor,  for  such  it  was  to  me.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor  had 
caught  some  twenty-three  fish,  every  one  of  which  was  fit 
for  use ;  while  I  had  succeeded  in  landing  three,  not  one 
of  which  was  of  the  least  possible  value  for  any  purpose. 
I  was  not  a  little  disgusted  at  my  luck,  or,  rather,  at  my 
want  of  it,  and  made  up  my  mind  that  nature  never  de- 
signed me  for  a  fisherman,  and  that  I  could  succeed  much 
better  as  a  book  agent.  As  I  said  before,  I  can  do  some- 
thing in  the  way  of  eating  fish,  when  they  are  properly 
prepared  and  on  the  table,  but  this  is  the  only  part  of  a 
fisherman's  life  I  am  fit  for. 

But  I  had  already  wasted  too  much  time  in  this  place, 
and  decided  to  stay  here  no  longer,  but  would  go  and  can- 
vass Elkhart  and  Goshen,  and  then  return  here  and  de- 
liver my  books.  I  had  ordered  books  to  be  sent  to  Goshen 
at  the  same  time  that  I  had  ordered  those  at  Mishawaka, 
and,  doubtless,  they  would  be  there  by  the  time  I  had  fin- 
ished canvassing,  and  I  could  then  deliver  all  at  once,  and 
thus  close  up  my  business  in  this  part  of  the  country.  I, 
therefore,  packed  up  my  "  traps,"  bade  adieu  to  the  kind 
friends  who  had  tried  so  hard  to  initiate  me  into  the  mys- 
teries of  the  sport  of  fishing,  but  with  such  poor  success, 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  363 

and  took  the  cars  for  Elkhart,  where  I  arrived  in  due  time 
without  incident. 

Upon  reaching  this  place,  I  went  to  work  with  a  vigor 
which  was  intended  to  make  up  for  all  the  time  lost  by  the 
neglect  of  my  publisher,  with  whom  I  was  already  quite 
out  of  patience  for  his  dilatoriness ;  but  my  patience  was 
yet  to  be  more  sorely  tried  from  this  source. 

My  efforts  here  were  very  successful,  and  in  a  week  no 
less  than  forty  names  of  subscribers  had  been  added  to  my 
already  magnificent  list  of  subscribers  for  the  Masonic  his- 
tory. I  felt  proud  of  my  week's  work,  and  thought  that 
what  had  been  done  was  deserving  of  compliment.  Surely 
the  sale  of  forty  copies  of  a  single  work,  in  a  little  town 
like  Elkhart,  was  something  to  be  proud  of,  and  I  venture 
the  assertion,  that  not  five  canvassing  agents  in  the  United 
States  can  show  a  better  report  for  the  same  time  and  un- 
der the  same  circumstances ;  but  it  shows  what  energy  and 
determination,  when  properly  applied,  can  accomplish,  even 
under  unfavorable  circumstances. 

From  Elkhart  I  went  to  Goshen,  nothing  doubting  that 
I  should  find  my  books  there,  as  more  than  two  weeks  had 
now  elapsed  since  they  had  been  ordered ;  but  again  I  was 
doomed  to  disappointment,  for,  to  my  inquiry  for  books,  the 
express  agent  politely  replied,  "There  is  nothing  here  for 
Mrs.  S.  A.  Nelles."  What  could  it  mean  ?  Surely  my 
orders  had  been  received  by  the  publisher,  and  why  there 
should  be  so  much  want  of  promptness  in  filling  them, 
was  entirely  beyond  my  comprehension.  I  would  write  to 
Mr.  Fessenden,  give  him  a  piece  of  my  mind,  and  learn 
what  he  meant  by  thus  keeping  me  idle  through  his  neg- 
lect, and,  in  the  meantime,  would  canvass  Goshen  and 
the  surrounding  country,  and  by  that  time  my  answer,  as 
well  as  the  books,  would  most  likely  arrive.     Accordingly 


364 

I  indited  a  letter,  "  short,  sharp,  and  decisive  "  in  its  terms, 
mailed  it,  and  went  to  work. 

For  about  a  week  I  labored  faithfully,  and  with  very 
fair  success,  having  sold  some  twenty-eight  or  twenty-nine 
copies  to  the  citizens  of  Goshen.  I  had  called  almost 
daily,  during  the  time,  at  the  express  office,  and  each 
day,  "  Still  not  arrived,"  had  been  the  answer  of  the  agent 
to  my  look  of  inquiry.  I  was  becoming  disheartened,  and, 
to  add  to  my  annoyance,  was  still  without  any  reply  to 
my  letter  of  inquiry,  written  one  week  ago.  But  what 
could  I  do  ?  Manifestly  nothing  more  than  to  wait,  with 
what  patience  I  could  command,  until  such  time  as  his 
majesty,  Mr.  George  B.  Fessenden,  should  see  fit  to  honor 
me  with  his  notice  once  more. 

I  wrote  him  another  letter,  and  then  went  to  canvass  in 
the  country,  for  a  few  days,  until  he  should  have  time  to 
answer  this.  I  worked  energetically  among  the  farmers  of 
that  region,  and  succeeded  in  selling  books  enough  to  pay 
my  expenses  and  something  more,  at  the  end  of  which 
time  I  returned  to  Goshen,  and  again  presented  myself  at 
the  Express  office.  "Nothing  has  come  for  you,  Miss," 
said  the  agent. 

I  turned  away  without  any  reply,  almost  sick  at  heart, 
and  bent  my  steps  to  the  Post-office. 

"  What  name  ?"  said  the  delivery  clerk. 

"Mrs.  S.  A.  Nelles." 

"Yes,  here  is  one,"  and  he  handed  me  a  letter. 

It  bore  the  Cincinnati  post-mark,  and  I  broke  the  seal 
with  eager  anxiety.     It  ran  thus : 

'^Mrs.  S.  a.  Nelles — I  am  sorry  to  say  we  are  out  of  the 
General  History  of  Freemasonry,  and  will  not  be  able  to 
fill  your  orders  for  some  time  to  come.  In  about  two 
■weeks  we  hope  to  be  able  to  supply  all  your  calls.     Re- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  365 

gretting  this  delay,  but  hoping  it  may  prove  no  serious 
inconvenience  to  you,  I  remain,  etc., 

Geo.  B.  Fessenden." 

Out  of  books,  indeed !  No  serious  inconvenience,  for- 
sooth !  This  letter  capped  the  climax — this  was  the  last 
feather  that  broke  the  camel's  back.  What  business  had 
he  to  get  out  of  books  ?  He  knew  I  was  selling  a  great 
many — he  knew  that  I  was  at  work  all  the  time,  and  that, 
in  the  last  three  months,  I  had  sold  over  three  hundred 
copies.  I  reported  my  sales  to  him  weekly,  and  he  knew, 
or  ought  to  have  known,  about  how  many  I  would  require ; 
and  why  did  he  allow  his  stock  to  become  exhausted  ?  It 
was  easy  for  him  to  say  he  hoped  it  would  put  me  to 
no  serious  inconvenience ;  and  it  was  a  small  matter  to 
him  that  I  had  to  lie  idle,  or  almost  so,  for  weeks  at  a 
time,  on  account  of  his  neglect;  but  to  me  it  was  not  a 
small  matter.  It  was  my  meat  and  drink :  upon  the  sales 
of  the  book  he  was  "out  of,"  depended  my  support  and 
that  of  my  two  little  babes,  at  Indianapolis ;  and  to  me  it 
was  a  very  "  serious  inconvenience."  But  I  would  see  that 
the  same  thing  did  not  happen  again  while  I  worked  for 
him.  I  would  order  books  for  a  month  or  more  before  I 
expected  to  visit  a  place,  and  would  report  that  place  can- 
vassed, and  thus  I  might  possibly  get  them  when  I  wanted 
them. 

Such  were  my  reflections  as  I  read  this  letter,  but,  for 
the  present,  T  could  do  nothing.  I  would  have  to  wait  the 
two  weeks  any  how,  and  what  should  I  do  during  that 
time  ?  I  had  heard  that  there  was  a  very  superior  school 
for  little  children,  at  Springfield,  Illinois,  and  I  decided, 
while  waiting  Mr.  Fessenden's  "inconvenience,"  to  go 
there  and  see  if  it  was  desirable  to  send  my  children  there, 
inasmuch  as  the  lady  in  whose  ch«arge  they  now  were,  had 


366  >  ANNIE   NELLES  ;    OR 


intimated  to  me  that  she  might  possibly  break  up  her 
establishment  and  remove  from  the  city.  By  the  time  I 
could  make  that  journey,  his  two  weeks  would  likely  be 
up,  and  then  I  might  hope  to  have  my  order  filled,  and  be 
able  to  supply  my  subscribers  in  this  part  of  the  country. 
So  it  was  determined. 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  367 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

In  pursuance  of  the  determination  mentioned  at  the 
close  of  the  last  chapter,  I  settled  up  my  affairs  at  Goshen, 
so  far  as  it  was  possible  for  me  to  do ;  called  upon  the 
express  agent,  and  informed  him  of  my  intended  absence 
for  about  two  weeks,  and  requested  him  to  retain  in  his 
office  any  packages  coming  for  me  until  my  return,  which 
he  promised  to  do ;  took  leave  of  my  friends  there,  and 
embarked  on  the  cars  for  La  Porte ;  for  it  was  my  intention 
to  stop  there  a  short  time,  and  visit  some  of  my  many 
friends  in  that  city.  Arriving  there  in  due  time,  I  found 
my  friends  all  well,  and  passed  a  day  or  two  as  pleasantly 
as  I  ever  did  anywhere  in  my  life.  I  had  taken  the  de- 
grees of  the  Eastern  Star  during  my  stay  in  Goshen,  and 
as  the  friend  who  had  introduced  me  to  Elder  Walker 
was  very  proficient  in  these  degrees,  I  availed  myself  of 
his  kindness  to  become  more  acquainted  with  them  than 
I  had  hitherto  been. 

And  just  here  I  desire  to  bear  my  testimony  to  the 
value  of  these  degrees,  and  to  express  my  surprise  that 
they  are  not  more  generally  worked  and  understood  among 
the  Masonic  fraternity  and  their  wives  and  daughters. 
Nothing,  within  my  knowledge,  will  secure  that  protection 
and  assistance  which  every  wife  and  daughter  of  a  Mason 
has  a  right  to  demand  at  the  hands  of  the  entire  frater- 
nity, so  readily  and  certainly,  as  a  knowledge  of  these 
degrees ;  and  certainly  there  is  nothing  which  brings  us, 
who  are  debarred  by  the  rules  of  the  Order  from  full  ad- 
mission to  its  secrets,  into  such  close  fellowship  and  affilia- 


368  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

tion,  so  to  speak,  with  this  ancdent  and  honorable  Order,  as  a 
thorough  acquaintance  therewith.  The  only  difficulty  in  the 
way  is  the  fact,  that  Master  Masons,  who  are  thoroughly 
posted  in  the  secret  work  and  ritual  of  the  Order,  do  not, 
as  a  general  thing,  take  the  pains  to  acquire  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  these  degrees,  and  that  ladies  upon  whom 
they  have  been  conferred,  do  not  take  sufficient  interest 
in  them,  from  the  very  fact  just  cited,  to  retain  enough  of 
them  to  make  them  useful.  To  remedy  this  evil,  I  would 
have  every  Master  Mason,  as  much  required  to  perfect 
himself  in  these  degrees,  as  he  is  in  the  three  symbolical 
degrees  of  the  blue  lodge,  and  would  have  ladies,  upon 
whom  they  have  been  conferred,  organize  lodges,  schools 
of  instruction,  etc.,  as  do  our  husbands  and  brothers,  and 
render  themselves  as  perfect  in  their  mysteries  as  do  Mas- 
ter Masons  in  the  rituals  of  their  institution.  In  this  way 
the  Order  of  The  Eastern  Star  can  be  made  really  and 
permanently  useful,  and  the  beneficient  design  of  its 
founder  be  carried  out  to  a  full  and  practical  realization. 
That  the  "  Eastern  Star  "  lodges  here  alluded  to,  can 
be  made  really  useful  and  beneficial,  as  well  as  perma- 
nent, is  proven  by  the  fact  that  they  are  already  in  suc- 
cessful operation  in  some  parts  of  the  United  States, 
though  by  no  means  generally  organized  throughout  the 
land.  There  is  one  at  Goshen,  one  at  New  Albany,  and 
probably  in  other  parts  of  the  State,  and  also  in  the  State 
of  Michigan,  and  probably  other  States  of  the  Union.  Let 
the  number  of  these  organizations  be  extended  until  they 
become  as  universally  known  and  recognized  as  are  Ma- 
sonic Lodges,  and  then  woman  will  really  derive  some 
benefit  from  that  which  was  invented  by  an  eminent  and 
worthy  brother  for  her  sole  good.  But  to  return  to  myself 
and  my  visit. 


THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  369 

Among  other  things,  I  had  a  good,  hearty  laugh  with 
my  friend  about  my  attempt  to  "  canvass  "  Elder  Walker. 
I  was  still  a  little  sore  over  the  matter,  and  could  hardly 
believe  the  assertion  of  my  friend,  that  the  "  Elder  "  had 
not  put  on  a  little  extra  style  for  the  occasion,  and  that 
this  was  his  natural  style  of  conversation  whenever  he 
wanted  to  be  very  impressive ;  but  he  insisted  so  strongly 
that  this  was  the  case  that  I  was  forced  to  yield  my  own 
opinions,  though  insisting  that  it  was  certainly  a  very 
extraordinary  style,  and  the  "Elder"  a  very  remarkable 
man.  Doubtless  he  got  into  this  high-flown  style  while 
laboring  in  the  pulpit,  and  has  seen  no  particular  reason 
for  dropping  it.  I  remained  in  LaPorte  some  two  or  three 
days,  visited  all  my  friends,  and  then  pursued  my  journey 
to  the  capitol  of  Illinois. 

I  did  not  visit  Springfield  for  the  purpose  of  canvassing 
for  the  Masonic  history,  it  being  beyond  my  jurisdiction, 
but  I  was  still  nominally  agent  for  one  or  two  other  works 
which  I  had  a  right  to  sell  in  that  field,  and  I  took  them 
along,  thinking  I  might,  perhaps,  sell  enough  to  pay  my 
expenses  there  and  back.  I  also  took  my  specimen  copy 
of  the  Masonic  history,  merely  because  it  was  in  my 
trunk,  and  I  did  not  care  to  leave  it,  lest  it  should  be  lost. 

Upon  arriving  in  Springfield  I  learned  that  there  was 
no  agent  in  that  territory  for  the  Masonic  history,  and 
concluded  that,  as  I  had  a  sort  of  "  roving  commission," 
authorizing  me  to  sell  anywhere  except  in  territory  occu- 
pied by  other  agents,  I  would  try  that  a  while,  and,  accord- 
ingly, went  to  work  for  it.  I  also  offered  for  sale,  at  the 
same  time,  the  other  publications  brought  with  me,  and 
for  nearly  a  week  I  did  a  very  good  business,  taking  some- 
thing over  fifty  names  for  the  various  works.  I  then  made 
arrangements  with  a  gentleman  there,  to  deliver  the  books 
24 


370  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

when  they  should  be  sent  to  him,  and  collect  the  pay  for 
them,  allowing  him  to  retain  a  certain  per  cent,  for  his 
trouble.  I  ordered  the  books  sent  to  me  at  La  Porte,  and 
intended  shipping  them  from  there  to  him  myself.  I  had 
an  object  in  this  which  the  reader  will  not  fail  to  per- 
ceive. 

While  pursuing  my  labors,  I  had  not  neglected  the  ob- 
ject which  originally  induced  me  to  come  to  Springfield, 
and  my  inquiries  had  almost  satisfied  me  that,  although 
the  school  there  was  a  very  good  one,  still  nothing  would 
be  gained  by  sending  my  children  there,  especially  so  long 
as  the  present  arrangement  co;ild  be  maintained  at  Indi- 
anapolis. The  reader  will  bear  in  mind,  that  there  was 
no  positive  certainty  that  the  school  there  would  be  dis- 
continued at  the  present,  and  even  should  it  be,  I  thought 
I  knew  of  places  where,  without  intending  any  disparage- 
ment to  the  institution  at  Springfield,  my  little  ones  could 
be  sent  with  much  more  satisfaction  to  me  than  there. 
Still,  I  had  come  to  investigate  the  merits  of  the  institu- 
tion, and  would  not  do  it  injustice,  or  depart  without 
making  that  investigation  as  thorough  as  my  abilities  and 
circumstances  would  admit. 

I  therefore  visited  the  establishment,  and  had  a  long 
interview  with  the  lady  who  officiates  as  principal.  She 
was  a  very  lady-like  and  matronly  personage,  somewhat 
past  the  middle  age,  and  evidently  desirous  of  doing  jus- 
tice to  the  mental,  moral,  and  physical  qualities  of  the 
little  ones  intrusted  to  her  care.  The  school  was  well 
and  pleasantly  located,  the  children  seemed  to  enjoy  them- 
selves very  well,  and  my  impressions  of  the  school,  from 
this  examination,  were  just  the  same  as  those  formed  from 
my  inquiries — that  while  there  was  no  doubt  of  its  genu- 
ine merit,  still  there  were  places  where  my  little  ones 


THE    LIFE    OF    A    BOOK   AGENT.  371 

could  be  established  more  to  my  satisfaction  than  there. 
Others  might  differ  with  me,  might  be  better  qualified  to 
judge  than  myself — it  is  the  right  and  the  duty  of  every 
one  having  the  care  of  children,  to  decide  these  matters 
for  themselves — ^but  I  could  not  see  this  school  in  a  light 
which  would  induce  me  to  give  it  the  preference  over  sev- 
eral others  within  my  knowledge. 

My  work  in  Springfield  was  done,  and  still  I  was  not 
ready  to  leave.  In  and  about  Springfield  are  several 
places  which  the  events  of  the  last  six  years  have  ren- 
dered of  historic  value  to  every  American  whose  heart 
thrills  with  true  devotion  to  his  country,  and  reveres  all 
that  is  great  and  good  in  her  history,  and  I  could  not 
leave  the  place  without  visiting  the  tomb,  and  the  former 
home,  of  Abraham  Lincoln.  Securing  the  companionship 
of  a  friend,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  the  locality,  we 
set  out  the  next  day,  while  the  morning  was  yet  in  its  in- 
fancy, and  the  air  was  cool  and  fresh,  for  the  cemetery 
where  lie  the  mortal  remains  of  a  man  who  occupies  a 
place  in  the  great  American  heart  second  to  none  of  the 
elevated  and  noble  characters  who  have  adorned  the  pages 
of  her  history. 

The  cemetery  at  Springfield  is,  I  think,  the  finest,  in 
its  arrangement  and  ornamentation,  I  ever  saw.  Other 
cities  and  other  communities  have  taken  pains  to  orna- 
ment and  render  attractive  the  last  resting-places  of  their 
loved  and  honored  dead,  but  to  Springfield  must  be 
awarded  the  palm  of  having  more  nearly  attained  perfec- 
tion, in  this  respect,  than  any  other  place  within  my 
knowledge.  The  smooth,  green,  and  closely-shaven  lawn, 
cut  hither  and  thither  with  .finely  graveled  walks ;  the  reg- 
ular and  beautiful  arrangement  of  lots  and  burial  places ; 
the  pleasant  arbors,  scattered  here  and  there,  throughout 


372  ANNIE  NELLES  ;  OR, 

the  grounds,  give  the  place  more  the  appearance  of  a 
finely-arranged  garden  than  of  a  charnel-house ;  while  the 
splendid  firs  and  other  evergreens,  which  rise  on  every 
hand,  and  through  which  are  peeping  forth,  in  every  direc- 
tion, tall  and  stately  obelisks,  more  simple  monuments 
and  plain  white  marble  slabs,  are  suggestive  of  a  sense  of 
coolness  and  peace,  which  at  once  brings  to  the  mind,  in 
all  their  loveliness  and  sweetness  and  power,  those  beau- 
tiful lines  in  which  Montgomery  has  described  the  calm 
rest  of  the  grave.  And  as  we  passed  within  the  gate,  and 
I  stood  enchanted  with  the  beauties  of  the  scene  before 
me,  I  found  myself  almost  unconsciously  repeating : 

"  There  is  a  calm  for  those  who  weep, 
A  rest  for  weary  pilgrims  found, 
They  softly  lie  and  sweetly  sleep 
Low  in  the  ground." 

I  was  completely  lost  in  admiration,  and,  for  a  time, 
could  do  nothing  but  stand  and  gaze  upon  the  beauties  of 
the  scene  ;  but  we  passed  onward,  and  at  last  stood  by  the 
tomb  of  the  noble  man,  who,  with  a  singular  unselfishness, 
and  the  most  noble  devotion  to  the  good  of  his  country, 
had  stood  unmoved  at  the  helm  of  the  ship  of  state,  and 
by  his  own  mighty  genius  had  guided  her  safely  through 
the  storm  which  threatened  to  ingulf  her,  and  had  finally, 
when  she  was  just  entering  the  harbor  of  peace  and  ever- 
lasting security,  and  when  he  could  see  the  approaching 
end  of  all  his  toils  and  labors,  fallen  by  the  hand  of  an 
assassin,  whose  name  and  memory  will  be  execrated  by 
every  lover  of  liberty  and  free  government  down  to  the 
latest  fragment  of  recorded  time. 

Ah !  what  emotions  thrilled  my  soul,  as  I  stood  by  the 
tomb  of  this  man,  who,  born  in  the  humblest  walks  of  life, 
and  in  his  youth  devoted  to  the  most  menial  avocati  ns, 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  373 

had,  by  the  force  of  his  own  unaided  genius,  and  the  na- 
tive goodness  of  his  character,  risen  to  the  highest  posi- 
tion in  the  gift  of  a  proud  and  powerful  people ;  and  had 
achieved  for  himself  a  crown  of  glory,  by  the  side  of  which 
the  brightest  and  most  costly  diadem  of  an  European  mon- 
arch sinks  into  the  most  utter  insignificance.  The  mighty 
struggle,  through  which  the  nation  had  just  passed,  and 
the  burdens  of  which  she  was  still  bearing,  from  the  firing 
of  the  first  hostile  gun  at  the  unarmed  steamer  Star  of 
the  West,  to  the  last  closing  drama  in  the  wilderness  of 
Georgia,  passed  in  review  before  my  mind's  eye,  as  I 
stood,  with  bowed  head  and  reverent  demeanor,  beside  the 
tomb  of  him  who,  under  Heaven,  had  directed  the  armies 
of  the  Union  to  final  victory.  In  fancy's  eye,  I  beheld  the 
the  marshaling  of  squadrons,  and  the  setting  in  array  of 
hostile  forces ;  I  heard  the  clang  of  arms,  the  trampling 
of  armed  hosts,  the  roar  of  cannon,  and  the  crash  of  mus- 
ketry; I  witnessed  the  ever- varying  and  shifting  scenes 
of  the  battle-field,  as  victory  now  hung  in  the  balance,  now 
inclined  to  this  side,  now  to  that ;  I  beheld  the  gory  aspect 
of  the  field  of  conflict  when  the  strife  was  ended,  and 
heard  the  low  moans  of  the  wounded  and  the  dying,  as  the 
thirsty  earth  eagerly  drank  up  the  life-blood  which  was 
fast  oozing  from  their  contracting  veins;  I  saw  a  mighty 
procession  of  mangled,  armless,  legless  men  closely  filing 
by,  and  exhibiting  their  wounds  as  claims  to  the  memory 
and  gratitude  of  the  country  which  their  valor  and  their 
sacrifices  had  helped  to  preserve ;  I  looked  upon  a  long 
line  of  gaunt,  haggard  forms,  clad  in  tatters,  and  with 
reason  half  dethroned  by  the  horrors  of  Anders onville,  and 
Salisbury,  and  Belle  Isle,  while  closely  following  in  their 
train,  came  half  a  million  of  spectral  phantom  figures,  who 
bad  bidden  adieu  to  home  and  friends,  and  gone  forth  to 


374 

lay  down  their  lives  in  this  unnatural,  unholy,  and  need- 
less war;  and  among  this  last  procession  I  recognized  the 
tall  and  stately  form  of  an  only  and  dearly-loved  brother ; 
and,  as  I  reflected  that  he  had  fallen,  not  in  defense  of  his 
country,  but  in  the  mistaken  and  misguided  effort  to  de- 
stroy it,  my  heart  throbbed  with  anguish,  and  I  turned 
away  my  head,  and  wept  in  the  bitterness  of  sorrow. 

But  I  looked  yet  again,  and,  lo !  the  brighter  side  of  the 
picture  appeared.  I  beheld  the  nations  of  the  earth  in 
mighty  conclave  assembled,  and  among  them  towered  one 
tall  and  stately,  upon  whose  escutcheon  no  blot  was  to  be 
seen,  whose  banner  gleamed  in  all  parts  of  the  habitable 
globe,  whose  government,  founded  upon  the  rock  of  eter- 
nal truth  and  justice,  bade  defiance  to  the  assaults  of  the 
mad  waves  of  passion  and  prejudice;  I  listened  to  the 
glad  songs  of  four  millions  of  beings  elevated  by  this 
struggle  from  the  condition  of  mere  chattels  to  the  glad 
estate  of  men  and  women;  I  saw  the  shackles  stricken 
from  their  limbs,  and  cast  into  the  sea  which  is  bottom- 
less, and  whence  they  shall  never  be  resurrected;  I  wit- 
nessed the  eyes  of  the  struggling  poor  among  every 
kindred,  nation,  tongue,  and  people  under  the  whole 
heaven  turned  toward  our  own  beloved  land,  as  the  beacon 
of  all  their  hopes,  and  the  aim  of  all  their  desires,  and  I 
said  within  myself,  "  Surely  this  result  is  well  worth  all  it 
cost  to  obtain  it." 

I  looked  yet  again,  and  the  future  was  unfolded,  as  a 
scroll,  to  my  view ;  and  I  saw  the  starry  banner — emblem 
of  our  nation's  sovereignty — waving,  in  calm  and  peaceful 
triumph,  over  the  whole  of  the  habitable  globe.  I  beheld 
liberty,  free  government,  law,  and  order  everywhere  pre- 
vailing, and  dispensing  their  rich  blessings  to  the  entire 
human  race ;  I  heard  the  rejoicings  of  countless  millions, 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK    AGENT.  375 

because  of  their  release  from  the  bondage  and  oppression 
which  had  so  long  bowed  them  to  the  very  dust;  I  wit- 
nessed the  sword  beaten  into  the  plowshare,  and  the  spear 
into  the  pruning  hook,  the  nations  of  earth  refusing  to 
learn  war  any  more,  and  the  whole  human  family  devoting 
themselves  to  the  arts  of  peace;  I  saw  love,  and  fellow- 
ship, and  good  will,  prevailing  among  all  ranks  and 
classes  of  mankind,  and  every  man  seeking  his  neighbor's 
welfare  before  his  own ;  and  I  said,  "  Surely  this  man  was 
an  instrument  in  the  hand  of  God,  and  this  Rebellion  one 
of  His  appointed  means  to  work  out  the  high  and  noble 
destiny  which  He  has  appointed  for  the  children  of  men  " — 
and  the  vision  was  gone. 

I  bowed  my  head  in  reverent  devotion  beside  this 
shrine  of  the  pilgrimage  of  a  nation,  plucked  a  rose  from 
a  vine  planted  there  by  the  hand  of  affection,  turned 
away  with  my  friend,  and,  casting  one  last,  long,  lingering 
glance  at  the  magnificent  beauties  of  this  silent  house  of 
the  dead,  we  left  the  cemetery,  and  returned  to  the  city, 
where  we  had  still  another  pilgrimage  to  make — another 
visit  to  pay. 

Our  destination  was  now  the  house  which  had  been  the 
home  of  Mr.  Lincoln  before  he  had  been  called  by  the 
voice  of  the  nation  to  assume  the  mighty  responsibilities 
which  had  eventuated  in  his  death ;  and  thither,  without 
delay,  we  bent  our  steps.  It  is  a  large,  old-fashioned, 
two-story  structure  of  wood ;  and  its  situation  bears  testi- 
mony to  the  true  and  correct  taste  of  him  who  had  for- 
merly occupied  it. 

We  found  the  house  in  charge  of  a  kind,  elderly  lady, 

by  the  name  of  Mrs. ,  who,  as  soon  as  we  expressed 

our  desire  to  visit  the  house  and  grounds,  kindly  offered 
to  accompany  us  on  our  tour  of  exploration.     She  first 


376  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

took  US  to  the  family  sitting-room,  where  Mr.  Lincoln 
used  to  unbend  from  the  cares  of  the  world,  and,  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family,  showed  himself  the  kind  husband 
and  father,  the  tender-hearted  man  of  affectionate  feel- 
ing, the  faithful  monitor  and  profound  instructor  which 
he  really  was.  It  is  in  the  bosom  of  his  family  alone, 
in  the  quiet  of  the  home  circle,  whence  all  deception  is 
banished,  and  where  trust  and  confidence  alone  abound, 
that  man  can  throw  off,  entirely,  the  mask  which  contact 
with  the  world  compels  him  to  wear,  and  appear,  in  truth, 
himself;  and  Mr.  Lincoln  is  said  never  to  have  appeared 
to  more  advantage  than  in  those  moments  of  ease  and  hap- 
py confidence.  And  the  affectionate  veneration,  amount- 
ing almost  to  idolatry,  in  which  his  memory  is  held  by  all 
who  ever  had  an  opportunity  of  enjoying  these  seasons 
with  him,  prove  how  fully  he  was  qualified  to  act  his  part 
there. 

We  next  visited  the  large  old-fashioned  parlor,  and 
stood  in  the  room  w^here  Mr.  Lincoln  had  received  his 
friends  in  the  pleasant  moments  of  conviviality;  where  he 
had  entertained  and  amused  his  guests  with  his  quaint 
humor,  solid  sense,  and  inexhaustible  fund  of  anecdote, 
and,  where  it  was  said  to  be  impossible  for  any  one  to 
spend  an  hour  in  his  society  without  going  away  sen- 
sibly improved  and  made  happier.  In  the  social  circle  he 
was  conspicuous.  His  fine  conversational  powers,  his 
genial  humor — which  had  not  the  least  tinge  of  unkind- 
ness  or  sarcasm,  except  when  called  forth  by  some  covert 
or  direct  attack  upon  himself,  or  upon  some  of  his  ideas 
of  right,  when  he  could  make  it  act  like  a  two-edged 
sword,  and  invariably  turned  the  laugh  against  his  antag- 
onist— and  his  well-known  goodness  of  heart,  made  him 
a  universal  favorite  in  society,  and  the  center  of  every 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  377 

circle,  and  gave  him  a  power  and  an  influence,  in  commu- 
nity, which  is  seldom  equaled,  and  which  was  always 
exercised  for  good. 

From  the  parlor,  we  went  to  the  room  which  had  been 
used  by  Mr.  Lincoln  as  his  library,  and  where,  by  con- 
stant study  and  patient  reflection,  he  had  trained  his 
naturally  great  mind  to  habits  of  discernment  and  patient 
steadiness  under  trial,  which  so  admirably  fitted  him  for 
the  high  and  mighty  destiny  which  he  was  to  fulfill — ^that 
of  being  the  chosen  leader  of  a  mighty  nation  in  a  dread- 
ful struggle,  involving  its  very  life,  and  the  issue  of  which 
was,  for  a  time,  at  least,  doubtful,  but  which,  under  the 
direction  of  Divine  Providence,  had  at  last  reached  such 
a  glorious  termination. 

But  why  particularize  further  ?  Suffice  it  to  say,  that 
we  visited  every  room  in  the  house,  and  that  each  recalled 
some  pleasing  recollection  of  the  great  and  good  man 
who  had  once  inhabited  it,  but  who  now,  by  the  instru- 
mentality of  a  murderer,  slept  the  sleep  which  shall 
know  no  waking,  until  the  last  great  day  when  the  dead 
of  all  nations  shall  be  gathered  together,  and  the  mur- 
derer and  his  victim  shall  meet  before  the  Eternal  Throne, 
to  receive  the  reward  of  their  deeds  in  this  life. 

We  then  went  to  the  garden,  and  our  kind  hostess  gath- 
ered me  a  bouquet  of  flowers  which  had  been  planted  and 
cultivated  by  the  hands  of  Mrs,  Lincoln,  and  w^hich  were, 
from  this  association,  more  precious  to  me  than  any  gift 
of  jewels  could  possibly  be.  They  have  long  since  faded 
and  withered,  but  still  I  keep  them,  and  shall  until  they 
molder  into  their  original  dust. 

With  heartfelt  thanks  for  her  kindness,  for  she  steadily 
refused  any  other  compensation,  we  bade  our  kind  enter- 
tainer farewell,  and  I  returned  with   my  friend  to  her 


378  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

home,  musing  upon  the  end  of  all  human  greatness,  which 
I  had  that  day  seen  exemplified  by  so  striking  an  illus- 
tration. Abraham  Lincoln  had  occupied  the  most  exalted 
station  which  any  man  can  attain  in  this  world ;  he  had 
achieved  for  himself  a  reputation  second  to  none  of  the 
illustrious  personages  who  have  adorned  and  illuminated 
the  pages  of  the  world's  history ;  a  nation  loved  and  re- 
vered his  name;  an  entire  race  hailed  him  as  their  de- 
liverer and  benefactor;  but  all  this  could  not  shield  him 
from  the  assassin's  hand,  and  he  now  slept  in  the  silent 
tomb — honored,  it  is  true,  by  all  mankind,  but  alike  un- 
mindful of  a  nation's  reverence  and  honor,  the  tears  of 
mourning  friends,  the  blessings  of  those  whom  he  had  de- 
livered from  bondage,  or  the  regrets  of  the  world. 

The  next  day  I  left  Springfield  and  returned  to  La 
Porte,  where  I  found  awaiting  me  the  books  ordered  there 
for  my  subscribers  in  the  place  just  left.  Of  course,  they 
w^ere  at  once  shipped  to  my  agent  there,  and,  it  may  be 
remarked  here,  that  they  reached  him  in  safety,  were 
promptly  delivered,  and  the  proceeds  as  promptly  and 
faithfully  accounted  for;  for  which  he  is  hereby  tendered 
my  warmest  thanks.  I  remained  a  day  or  two  in  La 
Porte,  visiting  my  friends  and  transacting  some  business 
relative  to  matters  aside  from  my  agency;  then  went  to 
Mishawaka,  where  my  books  had  already  arrived,  and 
supplied  all  my  subscribers ;  did  the  same  at  Elkhart  and 
Goshen,  and  the  surrounding  country,  and  my  work  in 
northern  Indiana  was  ended,  for  the  present,  at  least.  In 
all  probability,  however,  I  shall  revisit  that  locality  at 
some  future  period ;  for  my  heart  holds  a  sincere  afiection 
for  it,  and  some  of  my  most  cherished  friends  reside  there. 

But  I  had  been  a  long  time  absent  from  my  little 
adopted  darlings,  and  was  naturally  getting  impatient  to 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  379 

clasp  them  once  more  to  my  bosom,  gaze  upon  their  beau- 
tiful features,  all  beaming  with  alBfection  and  love  for  me; 
and  to  witness  the  improvement  and  development  which 
they  had  made  since  my  departure.  Accordingly,  my 
course  was  turned  thitherward,  and  in  due  time  I  arrived 
at  my  home  in  the  capital  city  of  Indiana.  I  found  my 
darlings  well  and  happy,  under  the  care  of  their  kind  in- 
structress, and  was  proud  and  happy  to  note  the  manifest 
improvement  in  each,  which  had  resulted  from  her  judi- 
cious and  faithful  labors.  They,  on  their  part,  were  as 
glad  to  see  me  as  I  was  to  see  them,  and  though  it  is  pos- 
sible the  world  contained  at  that  time  three  happier  be- 
ings than  we  were,  I  must  be  allowed  to  say  that  I  regard 
it  exceedingly  improbable. 


CONCLUSION. 

Let  the  reader  imagine  that  some  time  has  elapsed  since 
the  close  of  the  last  chapter,  and  has  brought  with  it  cor- 
responding changes  in  my  situation.  I  no  longer  reside 
in  Indianapolis,  nor  do  I  pursue  the  avocation  of  a  book 
agent.  I  have  abandoned  it,  not  from  choice,  for  I  still, 
at  times,  long  for  the  pleasant  scenes  and  incidents  which 
marked  the  days  of  my  canvassing,  and  which,  in  spite 
of  some  unpleasant  events,  invested  it  with  a  charm  which 
can  never  fade  from  my  memory ;  but  because  it  was  no 
longer  necessary  for  me  to  pursue  it,  and  I  felt  that  duty 
to  my  adopted  children  demanded  that  I  should  cease  from 
my  wanderings,  and  devote  my  time  and  attention  to  their 
care  and  education ;  and  if  the  reader  will  call  at  a  pleas- 
ant mansion  in  the  midst  of  a  beautiful  grove,  two  and  a 
half  miles  from  the  city  of  Lexington,  Kentucky,  he  will 


380 

there  find  Annie  Nelles,  happy  in  the  society  of  her  two 
children,  Carrie  and  Willie,  both  of  whom  have  steadily 
improved  in  beauty  and  intelligence. 

You  may  inquire  why  I  selected  this  place  for  my  home ; 
and  my  answer  is,  simply  because  it  more  nearly  resem- 
bles the  home  of  my  childhood  than  any  other  place  within 
my  knowledge.  The  house  stands  upon  the  same  gentle 
elevation,  and  is  surrounded  by  the  same  lovely  grove ; 
while  in  the  rear  a  lovely  spring  bubbles  up  from  the 
ground,  and  lends  the  same  air  of  delicious  coolness  to  the 
appearance  of  the  whole.  My  old  servant,  Caroline,  to- 
gether with  her  husband  and  family,  occupy  a  house  on 
the  farm,  and,  under  his  careful  and  thrifty  tillage,  mine 
is  the  model  farm  of  the  surrounding  country. 

But  whence  came  the  means  necessary  to  purchase  this 
beautiful  home  ?  A  portion  of  it  I  earned  at  my  chosen 
avocation,  and  the  balance  I  realized  from  the  sale  of  some 
of  my  property  in  Georgia,  my  application  for  the  restitu- 
tion of  which  was,  after  some  delay,  granted  by  the  gene- 
ral government,  and  my  independence  and  comfort  for 
life  was  thus  secured. 

My  divorce  was  granted  by  the  court  in  Indianapolis, 
and,  from  that  time  to  this,  I  have  had  no  communication 
of  any  kind  with  Frank  Nelles,  nor  do  I  know  where  he 
is,  or,  indeed,  whether  he  is  living  or  dead.  For  some 
time  I  feared  he  would,  upon  learning  of  my  pecuniary 
succeses,  seek  me  out  and  annoy  me  with  entreaties  to 
resume  the  relation  which  I  once  bore  to  him — he  is  suf- 
ficiently mercenary  and  selfish  to  do  this — but  all  fears  of 
this  kind  have  ceased,  and  I  now  entertain  no  apprehen- 
sions of  any  trouble  or  annoyance  from  him.  I  shall 
never  marry  again ;  but  will  devote  all  my  time  and  ener- 
gies to  the  care  and  cultivation  of  the  two  adopted  dar- 


THE    LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  381 

lings  who  are  the  pride  and  joy  of  my  heart ;  and,  if  God 
wills  that  they  shall  be  spared  to  me,  and  go  on  in  the 
course  they  are  already  pursuing,  I  shall  find  in  their  soci- 
ety ample  recompense  for  all  the  toils  and  sorrows  I  have 
endured  in  the  past. 

That  I  am  happy  in  my  present  situation,  it  is  needless 
to  say.  My  life  has  abounded  in  sorrow  and  misery ;  it 
has  been  a  stormy  and  tempestuous  sea ;  of  almost  every 
species  of  wretchedness  I  have  endured  my  full  share,  but 
through  the  goodness  and  mercy  of  Him  who  overruleth 
all  things,  my  lot  of  bitterness  and  woe  has  been  turned 
into  joy  and  gladness.  Through  His  care  and  protecting 
kindness  I  have  surmounted  all  my  troubles,  and  have  at 
last  gained  the  haven  of  peace  and  earthly  happiness,  and 
my  heart  daily  and  hourly  goes  out  in  praise  and  thanks- 
giving toward  Him  for  all  his  care  and  watchfulness  over 
me. 

A  word  or  two  in  relation  to  certain  characters  who  have 
appeared  in  this  history,  and  I  take  my  leave  of  you. 

Long  after  my  final  separation  from  Eugene  Giles  Ma- 
son, I  learned  that  the  child  who  is  so  dear  to  my  heart, 
and  whom  I  have  taught  to  call  me  by  the  name  of 
"mother" — my  own  little  Carrie — was  the  child  of  him 
whom  I  then  supposed  to  be  my  husband,  by  the  only 
daughter  of  a  wealthy  Georgia  planter.  Her  mother  died 
in  giving  her  birth,  and  was  thus  spared  the  long  life  of 
shame  and  sorrow  which  would  otherwise  have  been  her 
portion.  It  was  Mason  himself  who  brought  her  to  the 
door  in  the  basket  on  that  night  of  lonely  watching.  He 
had  resorted  to  this  means  to  conceal  from  me  the  knowl- 
edge of  his  crime,  as  well  against  morality  as  against  my- 
self, and,  after  ringing  the  door-bell,  had  concealed  him- 
self in  the  shrubbery  until  Silvie  took  the  basket  within 


382  ^  ANNIE    NELLES;    OR, 

the  door;  when  he  sneaked  away  until  it  was  time  for  him 
to  come  home.  It  matters  not  how  I  learned  these  facts 
— their  authenticity  is  entirely  unquestionable — and  this 
was  my  Carrie's  birth. 

As  for  Mason  himself,  his  life  was  wicked  and  his  death 
was  sudden  and  violent.  He  was  descending  the  Mis- 
sissippi river  in  a  steamboat,  and  having  engaged  in  a 
violent  altercation  with  a  fellow-passenger,  he  was  sud- 
denly struck  overboard,  and,  in  spite  of  the  utmost  efforts 
to  save  him,  he  was  finally  drowned,  and  his  lifeless  body 
was  not  recovered  for  some  days.  In  the  confusion  at- 
tending his  disappearance,  his  murderer  leaped  overboard, 
swam  ashore,  and  finally  made  his  escape.  And  so  died 
Eugene  Giles  Mason,  a  man  whose  talents  and  business 
qualifications,  if  properly  directed  and  controlled  by  vir- 
tuous and  upright  sentiments,  would  have  rendered  him  an 
ornament  to  any  society,  but  who,  by  his  moral  deformity, 
had  rendered  himself  only  a  curse  to  the  world  and  to 
humanity.  And  thus  he  was  hurried  into  the  presence  of 
his  Maker,  unwarned  and  unannounced,  with  all  of  his 
sins  upon  his  head  unexpiated  and  unrepented  of  May 
we  indulge  the  hope  that  He  who  is  all  goodness  and 
kindness,  and  who  wills  that  none  of  His  creatures 
shall  perish,  judged  his  soul,  not  in  anger,  but  in  mercy 
and  tenderness.  His  body  lies  buried  in  a  lonely  ne- 
glected and  unknown  grave,  on  the  bank  of  the  Mississippi 
river,  but  a  short  distance  from  the  city  of  Memphis. 

And  now,  dear  reader,  my  task  is  ended,  and  it  only  re- 
mains for  us  to  part,  perhaps  forever,  perhaps  not.  Whether 
the  public  will  ever  hear  from  me  again  or  not,  is  not  now 
for  me  to  say,  and  depends  upon  future  events  entirely — 
perhaps  somewhat  upon  the  manner  in  which  this  first 
efibrt  shall  be  received  by  a  descriminating,  but  generous 


THE   LIFE    OF   A   BOOK   AGENT.  383 

public.  Should  life  and  health  and  strength  be  spared  me, 
and  my  children  grow  up  to  maturity,  as  I  fondly  hope 
and  anticipate  they  will,  and  should  the  world  judge  kindly 
of  this  very  imperfect  attempt  to  relate  some  of  the  prin- 
cipal events  of  my  life,  I  may,  perhaps,  at  some  time  in  the 
future,  again  claim  its  attention. 

I  have  already  mentioned  the  motives  which  have  in- 
duced me  to  unvail  the  sorrowful  past,  and  expose  to  the 
public  gaze  the  errors  and  imperfections  of  my  past  life, 
as  well  as  the  wrongs  and  sorrows  which  I  have  endured: 
that  it  was  done  from  a  sense  of  duty  alone,  and  in  the 
hope  that  it  might  serve  as  a  warning  to  others  to  avoid 
the  rock  on  which  I  made  shipwreck  of  my  own  happi- 
ness and  peace  of  mind ;  and  I  have  only  to  add,  that  I 
have  constantly  endeavored  to  discharge  that  duty  in 
the  same  sense,  and  with  the  same  motives,  which  first 
prompted  me  to  undertake  it.  If,  by  exposing  the  secrets 
of  my  life,  I  shall  have  added,  in  the  most  trifling  degree, 
to  the  motives  which  exist  for  pursuing  the  right  and 
avoiding  the  wrong,  the  object  which  prompted  me  to 
undertake  the  publication  of  this  work  will  have  been 
accomplished,  and  I  shall  be  amply  repaid  for  all  the 
labor  expended  upon  it. 

Finally,  dear  reader,  thanking  you  for  the  kind  atten- 
tion which  has  induced  you  to  accompany  me  thus  far, 
and  repeating  my  prayer,  that  you  will  judge  leniently  of 
the  many  faults  and  imperfections  with  which  this  work 
abounds,  I  bid  you  a  kind  and  affectionate  farewell. 


384  ANNIE   NELLES;    OR, 

TO  FRANK  C.  NELLES. 


SELECTED  AND  ADDRESSED   HY   ANNIE  NELLES. 


"  Be  it  80  ;  wo  part  forever  ; 
Let  the  past  as  nothing  bo — 
If  I  had  not  loved  thco,  never 

Iladst  thou  been  thus  dear  to  me. 

**  Had  I  not  loved  thco  and  been  slighted, 
That  I  better  could  have  borno — 
Lovo  is  quelled  when  unrequited, 
By  tho  rising  pulse  of  scorn. 

"  Prido  may  cool  what  passion  heatod, 
Time  may  tamo  tho  wayward  will, 
But  the  heart  in  friendship  cheated. 

Throbs  with  woe's  most  mad'ning  thrill. 

"  Oh  !  there  is  a  silent  sorrow 

Which  can  find  no  vent  in  speech — 
Which  disdains  relief  to  borrow 
From  the  bights  that  song  can  reach. 

"  Like  tho  clankless  chain  enthralling — 
Like  tho  sleepless  dreams  that  mock — 
Like  tho  frigid  ice-drops  falling 
From  tho  surf-surrounded  rock; 

*'Such  the  cold  and  sickening  feeling. 

Thou  hast  caused  this  heart  to  know — 
Stabbed  tho  deeper  by  concealing 
From  tho  world  its  bitter  woo. 

"Once  it  fondly,  proudly  doomed  thee 
All  that  fancy's  self  could  paint — 
Onco  it  honored  and  esteemed  thco 
As  its  idol  and  its  saint. 

"  More  thou  wert  to  mo  than  mortal. 
Not  as  man  I  looked  on  thee — 
Then,  why,  like  all  the  rest  deceive  mo; 
Why  heap  man's  worst  curse  on  me? 


THE    LIFE    OF   A    BOOK    AGENT.  385 

''  Wert  thou  but  a  friend  assuming 

Friendship's  smile  and  husband's  art, 
And,  in  borrowed  beauty  blooming, 
Trifling  with  a  trusting  heart  ? 

"  By  that  eye  which  once  could  glisten 
With  appealing  glance  to  me — 
By  that  ear  which  once  could  listen 
To  each  tale  I  told  to  thee; 

"By  that  lij^  its  smile  bestowing. 

Which  could  soften  sorrow's  gusli — 
By  that  cheek,  once  brightly  glowing 

With  pure  friendship's  well-feigned  blush — 

"  By  all  those  charms  united, 

Thou  hast  wrought  thy  wanton  will, 
And,  without  compunction,  blighted 
What  thou  would'st  not  kindly  kill. 

"  Yet  I  curse  thee  not  in  sadness — 
Still,  I  feel  how  dear  thou  wert — 
Oh  !  I  could  not,  e'en  in  madness, 
Doom  thee  to  thy  just  desert. 

"  Live,  and  when  my  life  is  over. 
Should  thine  be  lengthened  long. 
Thou  may'st  then,  too  late,  discover 
By  thy  feelings,  all  my  wrong. 

"  Ere  that  hour,  false  one — hear  me — 
Thou  shalt  feel  what  I  do  now. 
While  my  spirit,  hovering  near  thee. 
Still  recalls  thy  broken  vow. 

"  But  't  is  useless  to  upbraid  thee 
With  thy  past  or  present  state — 
What  thou  wert,  my  fancy  made  thee— 
What  thou  art,  I  know  too  late." 

THE  END. 
25 


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